


I wouldn't bet on it

by Annemarie01



Series: Revenge is a dish best served cold [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Humour, Revenge, Romance, and more revenge, fluff and sex, friends in stress, idiotic situations..., with unforeseen consequences
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-03-09 19:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 88,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13487895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annemarie01/pseuds/Annemarie01
Summary: This story is the follow-up to my short story "It started with a kiss". Here you can read all about the reactions on that unexpected occurence on the Wounded Coast and what ensued... Let's just say Hawke and Fenris and their friends get very busy.Since Fenris decided to stay with Hawke, their life is nothing but roses and butterflies. And love-making, of course.But not far from their little (though rundown and dusty) paradise, some nasty game is going on. And all too soon they find out that what happens in Kirkwall certainly stays in Kirkwall, but also that that's not always for the best.And thus they strike back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> In case you haven't read "It started with a kiss", there's one important fact you have to know, because otherwise some things won't make sense: Hawke and Fenris have shared their "first night", but instead of running off, Fenris stays with her. Mainly because Hawke used some strong arguments Fenris couldn't deny.
> 
> The story continues after Hawke and Fenris more or less got lost in each other and forgot all about the world around them. But that world hasn't forgotten about them...
> 
> Enjoy!

Part 4: Some time after the morning after the unexpected kiss and what came of it ... etc.

-

Hawke awoke. She cracked one eye open and frowned. She found herself alone in the bed that had probably seen more activity over the past few days than in the rest of its existence. To her rather hazily amazement she was lying spread-eagled on the mattress, her feet entangled with the sheets. The same instant she grew cold and not only because of the lack of covers. She missed the tender and passionate and devoted and by now so intensely known and beloved warm body holding her close. He wasn’t here. Damn. Where the hell was her wonderful elf? For one short angsty moment she feared he had abandoned her as yet but put the thought aside as preposterous. Over the past days he had made love to her like an overenthusiastic pilgrim who had found his one and only purpose for living. Like she were the shrine of the goddess he worshipped without question. Like she were that very goddess. He had told her on several occasions he loved her and would never leave her – may the Maker smite him if he did – and after those declarations had made wondrous love to her again.

Then she noticed the freshly picked rose on the dented pillow next to her. With some difficulty she heaved her head an inch. A joint in her neck popped and cracked. But then a smile unfolded when she saw the trail of rose-petals starting from the pillow and leading to the door of the room. She forgot her sore limbs and joints and other badly, though delightfully molested body parts, and climbed out of the bed. After draping a sheet around her naked body she started to follow the trail. It went down the stairs, meandered through the spacious hall and eventually vanished into the kitchen. There the smell of roses mingled with the bitter but o so welcome tang of fresh made coffee. And there he was, her lovely elf, clad in just his smallclothes, standing before the stove, watching the steaming kettle with a pot of coffee-in-the-make next to his right hand. The last of the petals ended at his feet. Absentmindedly Hawke noticed he had done something about the mess in the kitchen insofar that he had moved the strewn around crockery and pots to a corner on the counter and piled them up in wobbly stacks. She stifled a hearty laugh while she sneaked up on him, a broad smile on her face, and hugged him from behind, pushing her naked frame close to his. The sheet slid from her shoulders and pooled on the floor around her feet. She let her hands rove over his chest and taut abdomen with an appreciative grunt and gave his shoulder something between a wet kiss and a lick. ‘I never knew you were this romantic,’ she hummed in his ear.

He held his breath for a moment before he answered, ‘Apparently there are still sides of me you have to discover. As do I, to be honest. Do you fancy breakfast? I found a few eggs in the pantry and I believe there is some cheese left.’

‘I want you for breakfast,’ Hawke replied with her most sultry voice and she softly nibbled his skin. It made him quiver.

‘May I remind you there stands a kettle with boiling water dangerously close by? One uncontrolled movement could cause disaster.’

‘I like danger,’ Hawke mumbled. She let one hand wickedly wander south where she caught his alluring already hardening cock, stroked his length through the fabric of his underwear and grabbed him with a velvet grip. To her satisfaction his breath hitched and he became within an instant noticeably more aroused.

He didn’t know how she did it, but every time she touched him, talked to him with that undoing low voice, or just looked at him with sparkling or veiled eyes, she let him melt. He couldn’t resist her, even if he wanted to. But, why on earth _would_ he wanted to do that. She made him happy, that in itself was enough. But beyond that she had managed to let him overcome his grief over the loss of his memories, and to his amazement had been helpful to regain them, even though they still only consisted out of frail bits and small pieces. It had been a crazy week, or half a week, or almost a week – he had completely lost track of time – in which he had learned to forget his sorrows and to just enjoy life, a hitherto entirely alien experience and all due to her. Due to her voice, her warmth, her body, and most of all due to her unconditional surrender and the infinite trust she put in him. She’d made no secret of her loving feelings for him and he basked in this new found sensation.

Abruptly he turned and pulled her in a firm embrace and started to nuzzle her neck. He gave her a soft bite. ‘You minx! I warned you the kettle is boiling,’ he grumbled with a badly hidden smirk, pushing his longing manhood against her thigh.

‘So I notice,’ Hawke chuckled, ‘and I told you I like danger.’ She subtly moved so his arousal pressed against her moist centre. She longed for him – again. His riveting scent, his smooth and lean and elegant and at the same time pure manly body, his perfect face topped with that wonderful silky sleek white hair, and last but not least the hypnotizing timbre of his voice, it all made her knees weak and her feminine parts ache for his male attention.

He silenced her with a deep and heated kiss because, for all the world, he wasn’t capable to ignore her challenge. He tried to pull back before he lost himself and, of course, it was a hopeless battle. But then again, why should he not lose himself – for the umpteenth time? He had done that to both their satisfaction so many times during the past ... damned, he really had lost count of the days. ‘The kettle,’ he protested feebly.

‘Can wait for the moment,’ Hawke groaned, pushing harder. ‘I hear kettles are very patient.’

‘Did you now? _I_ hear they mostly blame pots. Or the other way around.’

‘They’re known for their patience,’ Marian insisted. ‘I, on the other hand, am not.’

He simply couldn’t help himself; he pushed her violently against the kitchen table, lifted her and more or less threw her upon the surface. Marian just cried out with approval and excited exhilaration.

An earthen plate that Fenris had overlooked during his clear away expedition fell with a dull crash in pieces on the tiles of the kitchen floor. They didn’t pay it any attention. He entered her with a low almost feral grunt and she received him with hot enthusiasm. She would never grow tired of him. She relished the feeling of his hard cock pounding with fierce eagerness in her and again, as so many times before, she felt her peak growing and start to erupt from down her toes till it filled her whole existence and there was nothing left but the feeling of surrender, of melting with his existence and going up in flames to be born again as a new person. As a phoenix rising up from the ashes of a devastating orgasm.

After his, once again, powerful completion Fenris could hardly prevent his lame body from crushing hers; just in time he managed to put his hands on both sides of her head as some kind of counterpoint. A forceful shiver rippled along his spine while he let his breath even out. Finally he pulled out of her, which earned him a faint grumbled protest. He offered his hand to help her up. Immediately Marian wrapped her arms around him and hid her face in his chest to stay as close to him as possible. Even though that had happened countless times before, it still overwhelmed him. He could hardly fathom this woman, this breathtaking woman, felt this much for him. So much that he had let all his defences down and had surrendered to the love that already was burning inside him, ignored, or better not grasped, until she awoke it. He let out a soft grunt and let his fingers wander along the heated skin of her back and his lips brushed her hair. ‘I think,’ he murmured huskily, ‘I think I have become addicted to you.’

‘Really?’ she hummed. ‘How can you tell?’

‘Just the thought of being forced  to live without you makes me shiver.’ He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘If not mortally afraid,’ he whispered.

Hawke looked up and touched his cheek with tender fingertips. ‘You make it sound like something bad.’

‘Believe me, that was not my intent,’ Fenris hastened to clarify. ‘It’s just such a strange feeling. Not bad or wrong, just strange. I never felt like this before.’

Marian frowned. ‘Does it bother you?’ She sounded a bit strained and he chortled softly in response.

‘No, on the contrary; I want to feel like this forever. So I’m afraid you’ll have to stay with me till the end of time, whether you wish to or not.’ Playfully he tapped her nose.

‘Hmm, let me think.’ She tilted her head and looked contemplatively up at him but couldn’t conceal the merry twinkle in her eyes. ‘You’re implying I have to spend the rest of my life with the most intriguing, erudite, passionate and gorgeous man I have ever met? My, what an impossible difficult decision to make!’

He laughed out loud, creating a wonderful sound like a fall of in velvet and dark sugar coated gravel and kissed her with tender force. ‘I agree. But you can think about it over coffee. That will give you some time.’

‘Coffee. Yes. By now I’d love a cup of coffee.’ She added with mischievous glee, ‘I suppose we both need the energy.’

Smiling Fenris went back to the stove to busy himself with that particular task. He was just in time to save the kettle that had almost steamed dry. He shook his head and with a little crooked grin reminded himself to be more cautious in the future. It was all great and well he lost himself with – and in – Marian but the next time he’d better put out the fire before he jumped her. He raised his brow and almost burst out laughing. That was a very bad choice of words. Marian, his feelings for her, what they had done the past week (give or take a day), well, he didn’t want to douse that fire. And besides that, it would take a complete fire brigade to fight that intense burning bonfire.

In the meantime Marian picked up the bedsheet she had dropped the moment she embraced her elf and enfolded the large piece of fabric around her like some makeshift gown. She started to collect the shards of the plate that had found its pitiful end on the kitchen floor due to their heated lovemaking. _Better a plate on the floor than a bottle against the wall_ , she couldn’t help thinking with an impish smirk. And then she froze.

‘Take care,’ Fenris warned her, ‘don’t cut yourself.’

She would have found his concern amusing if not adorable – after the numerous injuries she had sustained during the years as a seasoned rogue she wouldn’t faint from a minor cut or two – had she heard him which she didn’t. For her eye had fallen on a small shining object lying close by the door leading to the neglected garden where the sweet smelling roses were in bloom. She picked it up and turned it between her fingers. It had the shape and appearance of a gold coin. She narrowed her eyes and her lips became a thin harsh line. Her hackles rose. ‘Fenris,’ she said slowly, ‘does this look familiar to you?’ There had crept a dangerous note in her voice.

The elf poured two cups with coffee and placed them on the table before he squatted next to her to examine the gleaming item she held in her hand. His merry mood waned within an instant. He went pale under his tanned skin. ‘I recognise that,’ he whispered, ‘this means –‘

‘I bloody well know what this means. This means war.’ By now Hawke sounded outright furious. ‘How dare they!’ Abruptly she stood up, ready to sweep out of the kitchen but Fenris reacted faster and grabbed her arm. He looked at her with wide eyes and a despaired expression.

‘Marian, I feel very uncomfortable with this,’ he said hoarsely.

‘So do I. And I’m going to do something about it. Right now,’ she replied grimly. ‘I will not tolerate this.’ She didn’t miss his anxiety but interpreted it totally wrong.

He fastened his grip. ‘Yes, that also but it´s not what I mean. It’s not what worries me the most.’ He took a deep breath.‘I feel exposed, vulnerable.’ He bit his lip and pressed on, ‘Don’t you see? This shows everyone could have walked in just like that without me noticing. I’ve been careless and have neglected my safety. Damn it, I let down my guard. I cannot let that happen again.’

Alarmed she stared at him while cold little talons started to claw at her innards. ‘What are you trying to tell me?’

 


	2. Chapter 2

Part 5: The consequences of a kiss … well a lot of kisses … and then some … Oh well, just read and find out!

-

_Later that day in the Hanged Man …_

‘Again??’ Anders cried out. His nose wrinkled with repugnance, as if he had smelled something utterly appalling. Just the mental picture forming in his head made him sick. He reached for the glass of ale he had permitted himself to smooth his anguish a little and took a sip. Thankfully Justice kept silent, though he could feel the spirit’s discontent simmering under his skull.

‘And you should see what they did to the kitchen. And the bedroom. And the hallway,’ Isabela said with awe in her voice. ‘I have to confess they put me to shame.’

Anders grumbled something under his breath that pretty much sounded like “Spare me the details.”

‘I must give it to the elf,’ Varric smirked cheerfully in the meantime, ‘he has some outstanding stamina.’

‘As if you didn’t know that all along, you blasted dwarf,’ Aveline sneered with an angry scowl at the gathered coin in front of Varric.

‘You could have known too,’ Varric countered with a shining beam. ‘You only should have paid more attention during battle. Let this be a lesson to you all: someone who is able to wield a heavy claymore with an ease like it’s a mere walking stick and manages to keep fighting with the bloody thing for an impossible long time, such person won’t have any trouble at all with a love-making marathon.’

Sebastian rubbed his already flustered face, reddening it some more. ‘I can’t believe I let myself talk into this,’ he muttered ruefully, ‘it’s most shameful.’

‘Oh you bloody hypocrite!’ Isabela flew exasperated at him. ‘You’ve had your fair share of wining and dining, and let’s especially not forget all the whoring you did! Don’t play holier than the Divine!’ Agitated she fingered the colourful scarf she wore instead of her usual choker; in real she looked even more flushed than the Chantry brother.

‘I won’t deny I lived the wild life once, in times long forgotten, but at least my friends didn’t place bets on my antics,’ the former prince responded irritably.

It had been an odd couple of days, during which they had assembled in Varric’s suite in the Hanged Man every afternoon with increasing excitement and growing wonder. Of course it hadn’t escape their attention Hawke and Fenris had been absent since the moment they both had run off after that unexpected but greatly memorable kiss. So, after two days of wild speculations, Isabela had gone on an investigation expedition and the lively glowing story with which she had returned had Varric given the idea of a wager contest. The rest of them all had been willing to participate, though it must be said some with more eagerness than others. What had started as some sort of joke had rapidly become serious business with high stakes. By now the most of them were, depending on the person, astounded or aghast but definitely nearly broke and more determined than ever to find out how much longer the two lovebirds would keep it up. And all, bar one, fervently were hoping they could win back some of their precious coin. 

Defiantly Isabela stuck out her chin at Sebastian. ‘I can’t remember us having any trouble with persuading you to partake in our little game,’ she bit viciously at the Chantry brother. Varric frowned pensively and mused the pirate queen was in an uncharacteristically but nevertheless particularly foul mood this day and wondered about the reason why. Jealousy? It seemed highly unlikely but, whatever the case, there was absolutely something wrong.

‘Yes I know and I admit I was curious at the start but now I regret it.’ Gloomily Sebastian stared in his ale. He lifted the mug to take a little sip. No penance in the world would absolve him from this sin. He shuddered beforehand at what the Grand Cleric would have to say about his despicable behaviour after he was done with his weekly confession.

‘You’re not the only one,’ Aveline muttered, unaware of the Chantry brother’s thoughts but still remorsefully glaring at the amount of lost money, now owned by the dwarf.

´I think it´s disgusting, ´ Anders grumbled. He had been feeling more wretched by the day over the past week. At first he had been convinced Hawke was acting on some kind of whim, perhaps the searing heat on the Wounded Coast had caused her a sunstroke, and would come to her senses soon enough, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore. It seemed more than likely she had truly lost her heart to that blighted elf and the Tevinter dog on his turn had fallen for her delightful charms.

´ _I_ think they make a cute couple, ´ Merrill waylaid him. It had taken a while before she had grasped the meaning of the whole betting enterprise but when she had found out she finally had a share in something dirty, be it remotely, her enthusiasm knew no limits. And she couldn´t help thinking Fenris wasn´t half as broody and grumpy when Hawke was around; his eyes lighted up and his expression softened every time he saw her. It was worth a few coins.

´It´s disgusting, ´ Anders persisted sullenly.

´You only say that because you envy Fenris,’ the pirate queen snorted heatedly. She made a face and downed her glass of rum in one go. ‘Can’t say I blame you, really. But then again, I envy _her_ too.’

Varric’s frown grew deeper. Petty jealousy after all? It wasn’t like the pirate queen’s normal cool, though at the same time igniting, lay back behaviour, but he couldn’t come up with another explanation. ‘Want to place a bet on the chances of a threesome?’ he suggested with a wicked grin. Not a second later he but just could dodge the glass Isabela threw at his head. It shattered against the wall behind him, inches above the fireplace. The last drops of rum splattered into the flames and made them crackle. It might be summer and still stifling hot, Varric always kept a fire burning in his hearth. It was a dwarven thing. ‘Hey!’ he protested. ‘That’s my wall and my glassware you’re molesting!’

‘And they say _I_ have a dirty mind!’ Isabela growled, paying no heed to the dwarf’s objection.

They abruptly got interrupted in their discussions when the door was kicked open and Hawke strode into the room like a warship flying full colours. She didn’t greet anyone but went straight for Isabela. She slammed a piece of gold on the table in front of the pirate queen. ‘Lost something?’

Isabela blanched. Involuntarily her hand shot to her throat where her choker was replaced with the scarf. It didn’t escape Hawke’s attention. She wasn’t surprised at all, it just kindled her fury. ‘That’s what I figured. Next time when you go spying, be certain your jewellery stays intact.’ Her look fell upon the heap of coins in front of Varric’s seat and again she wasn’t surprised; it only confirmed her suspicion. She glared around the circle of startled comrades and made sure she caught their eyes one by one while she said in a dark voice, ‘Thanks to your sick curiosity and your nauseating urge to gamble, Fenris has left me.’  She was met with hardly suppressed cries of dread. Even Anders had the decency to look appalled. He might hate the whole situation but didn’t have the illusion Hawke would suddenly change her mind and run to him. Frankly, he was utterly shocked by her pained expression.

In the meantime Hawke worked remorselessly on their unified feelings of guilt. ‘Thanks to you he panicked completely and has fled my arms and the city altogether. I hope you’re satisfied. I thought I had finally found happiness after all I’ve been through, so you can imagine I’m immensely grateful for your never-ending support. You’re true friends. Do sleep well tonight.’ With that she turned on her heels and swept out of the room, slamming the door behind her back on her leave.

None of them dared to raise their voice until Isabela finally broke the heavy silence that had fallen. ‘She’s bluffing,’ she said bluntly,’ she must be.’

Varric felt suddenly very weary and rattled to the bone. Not only had he found out why the pirate had been so bad-tempered, but more importantly he had been on the recipient end of an extremely furious, infinite sad and above all penetrative if not deadly look. He leant back in his chair and massaged the back of his neck, trying to recuperate from the confrontation. ‘I don’t think she’s bluffing, Rivaini. Have you heard her yell? Neither have I. And you know as well as I do she only speaks in that unsavoury scary tone when she’s really pissed off. I’m afraid we screwed up big time.’ He let out a deep sigh. ‘Did you really have to be so stupid as to lose a part of your necklace?’

‘They almost caught me red-handed!’ wailed Isabela in distraught. ‘I had to make a run for it through the backdoor! I only discovered the damage when I had managed to climb over the wall surrounding the garden and by then it was already too late.’

‘But not before you had witnessed their last exciting actions,’ Aveline scoffed disdainfully.

‘Well, I had to keep score, didn’t I. I just hoped they wouldn’t find out.’

Sebastian had hidden his face in his hands. He could already feel the stern eyes of Elthina upon him. Not even a week of praying on his bare knees or a month of fasting would cleanse him from this particular transgression. ‘Oh sweet Andraste, what have we done,’ he moaned.

‘Created a disaster,’ Varric said grimly. ‘And you,’ he turned to Anders, ‘wipe that grin off your face, Blondie, this is a serious matter.’

‘What?’ spluttered the healer, indignantly. ‘I’m not grinning. Do you call this a grin?!’ He pointed at his face that at this moment radiated nothing but injured anger.

‘Alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist,’ Varric mumbled, still taken aback by Hawke’s appearance, ‘I was just, eh, anticipating is all.’

Before Anders could start an offended retort Isabela jumped up. ‘You lot can keep sitting here like stunned ducks but I’m going to check on Hawke’s story,’ she said determinedly. ‘I’m convinced she’s lying. Or at least exaggerating. I want to bet Fenris is somewhere skulking in that depressing mansion of his.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Aveline said. She was developing a feeling of guilt big enough to camp in and desperately wanted to do something to shake off that dismal sentiment.

‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ the pirate queen reacted prickly. ‘I work faster alone and with a lot more stealth; they hear you coming from a mile away with all that ridiculous masculine steel clanking around you. I don’t feel like being harassed by curious neighbours and I certainly don’t want to announce my arrival to Fenris. I cannot wait to yank him by his elegant pointy ears out of his hiding spot.’ With that she darted out of the room.

‘Suit yourself!’ Aveline yelled after her. Her mood hadn’t improved by Isabela’s attitude, pretty much the opposite, but she’d rather drop dead than let herself down; stubbornly she pressed her lips. ‘While the wench scurries around Hightown we better try something substantial, like finding a solution to fix this mess.’

‘Unless you know a way to turn back time, I’m afraid there’s not much we can do,’ Varric muttered. He didn’t even make an effort to enliven the situation; he felt guilty, a fairly unfamiliar and very unwelcome sensation. ‘We can only hope Rivaini is right and Hawke made the whole thing up or was overreacting.’

‘I’m confused,’ Merrill timidly piped up, ‘are we still betting? On what? And can anybody explain why Fenris would leave Hawke? I don’t get it.’

‘A good question Daisy, but keep in mind we started with the assumption there would be many days of brooding, moping and fretting and surprisingly something entirely different happened. Something nobody could foresee. So, it could well be by now the situation has turned around once more and has tilted to the upset side. I gather Fenris isn’t fond of surprises.’

Merrill pondered the answer but wasn’t satisfied. ‘That doesn’t explain why he ran away.’

‘Well, you know Fenris,’ Anders said with dark cynicism.

‘No I don’t,’ Merrill replied, ‘not really. And neither do you. I think nobody does.’ She cocked her head and her look became contemplatively. ‘Poor Isabela. Is she getting the blame now?’

Aveline stared at the small elf with mild bewilderment. Blood mage or not, she had to admit she harboured a soft spot for the Dalish elf, but for all the love in the world, and even after the years she’d known her, she ever so often still wasn’t able to follow her rambling train of thoughts. ‘I’d like to,’ she said, after figuring out what Merrill meant, ‘but no. I deem that would be unfair.’ She pinched the bridge of her nose and blew out some air. ‘For the record, Merrill, all bets are off and Varric, I’m convinced you have a bottle of Orlesian cognac somewhere lying about. Right now I would kill for a decent glass of strong liquor.’

-

A few hours later Isabela came shuffling back in with an expression as amiable as an annoyed thundercloud out for blitzkrieg. She slumped heavily down in a chair and took a swig from the bottle of cognac sitting on the table. She looked viciously around the table. ‘Yes, I was wrong, all right? Hawke wasn’t telling rubbish,’ she bit. ‘Fenris has disappeared and he has taken his stuff with him. I couldn’t find a trace of him in the mansion and believe me I’ve search the place thoroughly. It looks like he hasn’t lived there at all; the evidence of his existence has simply been wiped away.’ She took another swig before continuing. ‘And it gets even worse: I made enquiries around the docks and had a nice little chat with the harbour master. He states Fenris stowed aboard a ship bound for Ostwick. And before you say something clever, the ship has already sailed.’

Varric almost knocked over his tankard with ale in shock. ‘Ostwick?! Are you sure it was him?’

‘The harbour master was. And let’s face it, there’s no mistaking Fenris. Even if he were hooded and cloaked he would stand out in a crowd.’

‘Why would he go to Ostwick of all places?’ Aveline wondered bemused.

The dwarf shrugged. ‘Probably because it was the first ship available.’ He thumped the table with energetic force. ‘We have to go after him and drag him back.’ He started to detest this unfamiliar feeling of guilt and like Aveline he wanted to undertake something to drown it. Preferably right at this very moment.

‘Have you gone completely out of your mind?!’ Aveline blurted out, ‘going to Ostwick and getting back here will take at least a fortnight! I cannot spare that amount of time!’

‘What? Afraid the city will crumble and fall apart in your absence?’ said Isabela with abrasive sarcasm. ‘Do you think you’re that important?’

The Guard Captain glared daggers at her. ‘Well, at least when you are out of Kirkwall, the crime rate will drop significantly,’ she parried.

‘There you go then, no reason to stay behind. Consider it some kind of holiday; I promise the sea air will do you good. And, who knows, your usual crankiness will even evaporate in the heartening salty winds.’ She wouldn’t admit it under torture but she also was suffering from guilt. It got her off balance.

‘Shut up whore,’ Aveline answered out of habit but her heart wasn’t in it.

‘I’ll come with you,’ Merrill said silently.

‘And I as well,’ Sebastian hastened to add. He hated the sea; he got seasick even by _thinking_ about rolling waves and thus he considered a voyage a proper punishment to start with. (For one reason or another religion always brings up a kind of masochistic behaviour in people.)

‘I have a clinic to run,’ Anders objected, ‘there’re people depending on me, I can’t just ...’ His voice trailed off when he got aware of the icy looks the others threw at him.

‘You carry as much responsibility for this debacle as the rest of us,’ Isabela said tetchily, ‘so it’s not more than fair you share our predicament and accompany us to Ostwick.’ Aveline was surprised the woman knew the word “responsibility”, let alone she’d worked out what it meant.

‘That’s easy for you to say,’ Anders sniped, ‘you’re a pirate; you like ships and such, I don’t.’ Unlike Sebastian he didn’t suffer from seasickness but after the Deep Roads he didn’t bear any fondness at all for cramped spaces. And besides that, the idea of getting Fenris back didn’t hold much of an appeal either.

‘Here’s a proposition,’ Varric interfered, ‘let’s stop bickering and go to the docks to find out when we can catch the first ship sailing to Ostwick. Despite all the shouting I know we all want to help Hawke. I for one don’t wish to see that look in her eyes ever again and I’m certain you’re of the same opinion. And perhaps in the meantime we can figure out how to haul back a distressed but lethally strong elf while keeping all of our body parts intact.’

-

And so, about a week later, they huddled together in the gloomy taproom of an obscure dive in the harbour district of Ostwick. Sebastian’s face still held a somewhat greenish tint after his ordeal on the wild billows and he quietly nursed a glass of water, trying to keep his revolting stomach in check. The mood in general was dejected; they had spent the whole day looking for clues and information about Fenris but had found nothing. No-one in the city had seen the elf or even caught a glimpse of him, let alone they would know anything about his whereabouts.

‘I’m beginning to suspect he hasn’t been here at all,’ Aveline said morosely

‘I’m inclined to share your opinion,’ Varric mumbled. ‘It seems he indeed hasn’t disembarked in Ostwick, otherwise someone certainly would have remembered. Like pointed out before, he’s very hard to overlook.’ He felt defeated; he had pictured this day entirely different. He hadn’t been as foolish as to think it would be easy, but this result of nothing at all was the equivalent of dying for a drink and finding out that your friends had emptied all of your bottles. Even the one that contained that sticky sugary sort of sickly alcohol that made you almost vomit just by looking at it but by now would have been more than welcome to quench your misery.

‘He could have travelled on to Hercinia,’ Isabela suggested, ‘or even went as far as Wycome.’ Secretly she was hoping for more time being spent on the sea; even though she hadn’t had the opportunity to act like a captain the voyage had done her good. She had missed what she had become to regard as her natural habitat.

‘Of course, the farther the better! Why wouldn’t he just be heading back to the Tevinter Imperium while we’re at it!’ Aveline sneered. She’d been on edge for over a week now and it didn’t help their efforts seemed to have been for naught. Besides that, this very moment they were surrounded by the grubby clientele of this highly suspicious waterhole and she didn’t appreciate the way the culprits were ogling them. Her fingers itched to start a bar brawl under the cloak of restoring order but she knew all too well she didn’t carry any authority whatsoever in this place. And it would definitely look very bad if the Guard Captain of Kirkwall would be arrested for disturbing the peace. She could already imagine Seneschal Bran’s evil delighted expression and she didn’t want to grant him the pleasure of that undeserved gloating.

‘Whatever the case, finding the elf won’t be as simple as we imagined,’ Varric sighed. ‘This was just a waste of bloody time. I admit we could have planned it better.’

‘O really?’ groused Aveline. ‘And here I was, thinking that storming off on a whim was always the best idea.’ A small group of curious locals sitting at the table next to them shrank nervously back under her murderous glare.

‘I say we return home,’ Anders proposed. ‘I see no benefit in continuing this journey. Perhaps Hawke knows more. We never asked her.’

‘I highly doubt that,’ Varric said, ‘she would have taken measurements if she did. Like hammering the elf to his own bed to prevent he would storm off.’

‘You don’t really think Fenris has gone to Tevinter?’ Merrill squeaked anxiously. ‘It’s far too dangerous for him over there!’

‘No, he wouldn’t be that stupid, Daisy, unless he wants to commit suicide in a very original but elaborate way.’ Varric screwed his eyes shut and groaned loudly. ‘Okay, I think Blondie is right and we should head back to Kirkwall. We better go find a decent ship.’

A week later they were back where they had started, none the wiser but for the valuable lesson that careful scheming would save a lot of time and possibly a load of money. In his haste to reach the quay Sebastian stumbled on the gangplank and would have fallen into the harbour’s murky water if it hadn’t been for Aveline’s quick reaction. The Guard Captain was as gallant as to assist him to further safety. He was so grateful he felt solid ground under his feet again he could have kissed her.

Varric invited the whole bunch to a drink in the Hanged Man but except for Isabela no-one was in the mood. Instead they agreed to meet the following day to discuss the next step to be taken after this downright flop.

-

Near to exhaustion, and about to be overwhelmed by the mother of all terrible tempers, Varric opened the door to his suite and at the same moment so abruptly stopped dead on his own threshold that Isabela bumped into him. In an instant his eyes widened to the size of saucers. He was met with a sugary grin and a cheeky lopsided smile sitting next to each other in merry harmony and sharing a bottle of wine.

‘Had a nice trip?’ Hawke inquired sweetly, her words dripping with honey. ‘I hear Ostwick is lovely this time of year.’

-

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for so little of Hawke and Fenris, but it served a purpose.
> 
> At any rate, thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they thougth this was all pay-back they got... Oh dear, how wrong they were...

Part 6:  More consequences ...

-

Let’s rewind the clock to the moment Hawke and Fenris were squatting on the kitchen floor next to the shattered plate, lingering in various stages of anger and indignation and sudden angst while staring at the broken off piece of Isabela’s choker.

Here we go ...

-

All kinds of emotions and thoughts were raging through Fenris’s mind, most of them tending towards naked panic. If Isabela had got access this easily, so could have more dangerous predators, like slavers. Or even... He didn’t want to think that one through. His first impulse, driven by some kind of primal instinct, was to jump up and flee and only with the greatest exertion he managed to stay motionless and to keep his reaction in check. He tried to fight against the rising panic attack with all his might and took a few deep breaths to steady himself and to keep his wits together. No, fleeing would be the most stupid thing he could do, he told himself sternly. Not only would it be no solution whatsoever, only a worthless shifting of the problem – again – but even more important: he could impossibly leave Marian. He loved her too much to do that. His life had taken an abrupt and unexpected turn and because of her the odds had tilted to the good side of the balance. So, he must not give in to his fears but without question something had to be done. Wallowing in warm bliss and happiness was all good and well but if his enemies caught up with him and overwhelmed him in his own mansion, there wouldn’t be much happiness to wallow in after. It was time for drastic measurements. More harshly than he intended he said, ‘This shows everyone could have walked in just like that without me noticing. I’ve been careless and have neglected my safety. Damn it, I let down my guard, I cannot let that happen again.’

‘What are you trying to tell me?’

Through the haze of his own disquiet Fenris caught the frightened and strained tone of Hawke’s voice and got alarmed. He replayed his reaction to the unpleasant discovery in his head and suddenly realised what she must be thinking. He wanted to smack himself; he didn’t doubt she was as upset as he about this unwelcome surprise and he hadn’t set her mind at ease with his words. On the contrary; he had made it worse. With a pang of remorse he cast aside his anxiety. He took her hand and squeezed gently. ‘I’m sorry, love,’ he said ruefully, ‘I should have expressed myself better instead of scaring the living daylight out off you.’ He gave her a brittle smile. ‘You really believed I was going to run away, didn’t you?’

On a first whim Hawke wanted to deny vehemently but immediately thought the better of it. Not only didn’t she want to lie to him but he’d look right through her. As a matter of fact he already had. ‘Well, I, er, yes,’ she confessed, ‘for a moment I did but can you blame me? It wouldn’t be the first time you got that stupid idea!’

He brought her fingers to his lips and softly grazed her knuckles. ‘That was days ago ...’ He frowned thoughtfully. Days? Really, only days ..? ‘... or a week or perhaps you better call it a lifetime, since in my perception it happened in a different life. Yes, a short while ago I would have fled, I suppose, but not anymore.’

Marian contemplated this for a moment. He was right, of course, he had changed. Like she had realised this very morning when she woke in an empty bed, he wouldn’t take off just like that. At least not without her. That feeling was merely due to her raw primitive fear trying to get the best of her. And then she noticed a sudden sparkle in his eyes. ‘I’m addicted to you, remember?’ he said. ‘One usually doesn’t run away from one’s addiction.’

‘I’m not quite sure if I should take that as a compliment, as a reassurance or should start to worry in earnest about your sanity,’ Marian grimaced, in truth sagging with relief.

He drew her into his arms, which is always a risky movement while sitting on one’s haunches. And thus, according to all physical laws, they fell clumsily backwards and landed in a heap on the tiles. But it broke the tension and Hawke started to laugh, be it still somewhat shakily.

‘Pick the compliment, you can’t go wrong with that,’ Fenris recommended. He took the advantage to cup her face and to kiss her. ‘What I, by the way, in fact _was_ trying to tell you is we have work to do. A lot of work.’

‘Work?’ Marian echoed confused. ‘What kind of work?’ She was still recovering from all the disturbing ripples life had dealt her this morning and her brain didn’t operate as swift as usual. But then comprehension dawned. ‘Ah. Work. Of course. Work. Like in making this house pirate-proof.’

‘Something like that,’ Fenris nodded, ‘though I was thinking about making it any kind of intruder-proof. What?’ Because out of the blue she got that far away look in her eyes he didn’t completely trust. It was evident her brain was in full swing once more and Maker knew what it had come up with.

 ‘I’m totally with you but could all that hard work wait for a few days?’ The faraway look had turned into a mischievous glint by now.

‘I suppose so,’ he said hesitantly, ‘why?’

If her beam got any broader her face would split in two; a battalion of lovely evil ideas were marching through her head, the one even better than the other. ‘Because I want to let our revenge taste as sweet as possible.’ She scrambled onto her feet and swayed to the table where she took a sip of the cooling mug of coffee. ‘I better fetch a pencil and some paper. Make that lots of paper. When we’re done with them they wished they’d never heard of the word betting.’

Pensively Fenris gazed after her when she hastened out of the kitchen, hitching up her makeshift gown with two hands. He didn’t know what she was planning but he feared seriously for the wellbeing of their friends.

-

_... And back again in the present time ..._

Isabela loomed over Varric’s head, which wasn’t very hard to do, and stared incredulously at the two persons sitting relaxed at the table in the dwarf’s suite, smiling insufferably. She was fervently searching for appropriate words but didn’t get further than a stuttered: ‘What, how, you ... you bloody bastards!’ She wanted to get angry but failed splendidly; this was simply too good a prank to get angry about. Instead she burst out laughing. ‘You wicked witch! This was all your idea, wasn’t it? The joke is totally on us! What a hoot!’ She pushed Varric aside and staggered into the room, falling into the first chair she came across, holding on to her belly while the tears began to flow down her cheeks.

Varric had started to applaud with an appreciating smile plastered on his face. ‘Well played, brilliantly played I must say. I’m impressed. I myself couldn’t have come up with a better plan for vengeance. I take a deep bow.’ And he did.

‘Don’t give me all the credits,’ Hawke said with a wide gesture at Fenris. ‘He is as much to praise as I am. For starters, he contrived the dramatic text to confront you with. To be honest, I was afraid I’d overdone my little show,’ Hawke giggled. ‘You know I’m not a good liar and even a less actress. I could only hope you bought the crap I fed you. I had a hard time to stay serious; you should have seen your faces!’

‘Without a doubt it must have been the best performance of your life,’ the dwarf smirked. He made a beeline for his liquor cabinet and poured himself a strong one. ‘I was deeply moved. In fact, you scared me to death.’

‘Thank you,’ Hawke said, ‘I appreciate it. Before I forget, you owe me five sovereigns.’

Varric’s brows shot into his hair. If he had had a beard it would have bristled. ‘Five – what for?!’

‘For bribing the harbour master. I had to persuade him to send you to Ostwick and money always does the trick.’

‘He played his role with verve, I must give him that, he fooled me completely,’ Isabela said, wiping the tears from her eyes. ‘Oh come on, Varric, pay the two scallywags, they’ve deserved it. And besides that, with all the profit you made on their account you can miss a few lousy sovereigns.’

Varric pondered that. ‘Alright,’ he finally gave in, ‘you have a fair point. But before I let myself separate from my well-won money, tell me where you have been holed up. It can’t be in the mansion, Rivaini has turned the place upside down.’

‘Indeed I have,’ Isabela agreed, ‘and while we’re at it, Hawke, _I_ didn’t buy your nice act.’

‘Yes you did,’ Varric contradicted her, ‘you were just too stubborn to believe it. That’s something entirely different and exactly the reason why you didn’t find our elf.’

 _Our elf. Well well, that is nothing less than an honorific and no mistake_ , Fenris thought amused. He reached for the bottle of wine and refilled Hawke’s and his glass. His eyes were shining with merriment. ‘That’s the prerogative of having a relation with a woman who owns her own property: there’s always another house to hide in.’

Isabela’s eyes grew wide. ‘Why didn’t I think of that!’

‘Because, Rivaini, like I mentioned not a minute ago, you _did_ believe the perfectly played sob story. You just didn’t want to.’

Fenris picked up his glass. ‘In a way you did us a favour; you don’t know half how busy we’ve been after I apprehended how exposed we were. Not only to your prying eyes but also to possible slavers and other scum. We badly needed those two weeks of your absence.’

Both the dwarf and the pirate looked not understanding at him. ‘Meaning ..?’ Varric said.

Hawke smiled smugly. ‘We’ve repaired the roof, replaced the broken windows, changed the locks, bolted the entrance to the cellar and hung heavy curtains. Very heavy curtains.’ She winked at Isabela. ‘No way will you be able to peep through the windows any longer. Or climb over the fence for that matter, unless you want to rip your skin open on the very sharp shards of glass. We finished the works just in time to witness your glorious arrival in the harbour.’

 _And we’ve done so much more than that_ , Fenris thought in the privacy of his mind, _you’ll find out soon enough._

 Varric shook his head. ‘It sounds like you’ve made a fortified and impregnable love nest out of the sad rubble. So, tell us, when can we expect the big news?’

Now it was Hawke’s turn to look not understanding. ‘What big news?’

‘About the date of your marriage of course,’ the dwarf clarified, straight-faced. Fenris choked on his sip and started to spray wine all over the table. ‘If you’re interested, I know an address that sells the most beautiful wedding rings for a fair price,’ Varric pressed on with evil delight. ‘I know the addresses, I’m a dwarf.’

Hawke glared coldly at him. ‘Don’t push it.’

‘No,’ Fenris managed between two bouts of coughing, ‘that’s just his way of taking revenge on our vengeance.’

‘And again I take a bow,’ Varric said with much approval. ‘You know me well.’

-

‘Do you consider the idea of marriage that repulsive?’ Hawke asked while they were ambling back home through the peaceful Kirkwall evening. With care she put up her most neutral voice.

A bit tense Fenris fastened his hold on her shoulder. ‘No. It just took me completely by surprise,’ he replied tentatively, anxious he had offended her with his strong, be it involuntarily, reaction.

‘Oh, good. I can understand that.’

‘Remember slaves aren’t supposed to marry; I’m not familiar with the concept.’

‘So you’re not against it?’

‘Not as such. Why? You want to get married?’ Immediately he sensed this was a totally wrong if not disastrous way to approach the subject. And this time he couldn’t put forward the wine had just chosen the wrong way down his throat.

Marian stopped at once and put a hand to her heart. ´My, that´s by far the most romantic phrase I´ve ever heard in my entire life,´ she exclaimed dramatically. ‘You certainly do know how to win a girl over! I’m astounded they’re not lining up by the dozens right now!’

‘I do apologise,’ Fenris spoke rather stiffly, feeling more than a little hurt, ‘but I’m afraid marriages are not my area of expertise.’

‘Apparently not,’ Hawke sniggered, ‘but don’t worry, neither are they mine. And you know many other ways to let me melt,' she added with a naughty and at the same time sultry tinkle in her voice. She took his hand and started walking again. ‘To be honest, I never gave the concept of marriage a real thought, except for what ways I could invent to avoid the wretched issue. Mother ardently tried to push me into the matrimony department; she threatened to find me a suitable husband and dragged me to all sorts of boring parties with even more boring candidates. And thus I rejected the idea as a good rebellious daughter should.’ She laughed this time. ‘Perhaps it’s better to getting used to living together first, considering the turmoil we stirred up by even doing that!’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ Fenris agreed, relieved she took it this easy. Deciding to stay with the woman he loved, despite the havoc his memories played on his mind, was remarkable enough. Carelessly plunging into marriage was still miles off.

They had reached the mansion and he opened the new lock with the new shining key. To her astonishment he lifted her up and carried her over the threshold. ‘We can, however, at least practise,’ he said with his irresistible lopsided smile.

-

‘So they changed the locks,’ Isabela ruminated, staring absentmindedly at the closed door through which the two lovebirds had disappeared. ‘Hmm, new locks. I like a challenge.’

‘I would lay low for a while if I were you, Rivaini. Maker knows what they will come up with next time,’ Varric replied. He hadn’t felt entirely comfortable with the glimmer in Hawke’s eyes.

‘Pft,’ Isabela huffed nonchalantly, ‘they already gave it their best shot, and they had their fun. What more tricks could they possibly have up their sleeves?’

The pirate queen would find out soon enough; came morning she discovered it didn’t take changing a lock as per se to lock someone up. And locking up pirates was a real nasty thing to do; they treasured their freedom above all. Corff brushed his hands after wedging the lead pipe between the door handle and the floor. ‘Easiest sovereign I’ve ever earned,’ he murmured. Satisfied he went off to bed.

With growing frenzy Isabela spent the whole morning screaming her lungs out and bruising her fists on the unyielding door, especially after she had found out the window-shutters were nailed up from the outside and there was no way she could escape. But the patrons downstairs didn’t pay the mayhem any attention, too busy with imbibing their usual poison; Corff pretended he didn’t hear, the mumbling man kept on mumbling, as always oblivious of what occurred around him and Varric was too occupied with handling his own tribulations to come to her rescue. When she finally was released, many hours later, steam was coming out of her ears. But she wasn’t the only one.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading ... and more to come!


	4. Chapter 4

Part 7: And here comes the chapter that covers the title of this part of the story...

Enjoy!

-

Both Hawke and Fenris tried to apprehend the distress the pirate queen must have endured.

‘Perhaps that was a tad too cruel,’ Hawke mused aloud, ‘especially because she didn´t see it coming. I suppose they all thought the case was closed, that we would settle with the punishment of a fruitless voyage to Ostwick.´ A happy chortle escaped her. ´Oh, how they thought wrongly!´

She and Fenris had made a snug picnic spot under the grown wild magnolia tree in the neglected garden adjacent to the kitchen of the mansion. They had dragged a blanket outside, together with some dishes holding several tasty titbits, and Fenris had dug a shallow hole in the ground in which he had placed a terracotta jug which held a bottle with cool white wine. He was sitting on the blanket with his back against the trunk and Hawke was leaning against him, lounging languidly between his long stretched legs, enjoying the contact with her lover’s taut body, the warm air filled with sweet scents of blooming summer flowers and the small bites and the bottle of wine they were sharing. The elf absentmindedly twirled locks of her hair around his finger and she savoured his touch. They were contemplating their actions and Fenris said, ‘Perhaps it was and thus I think that in comparison we let the Dalish witch off too easy. As a matter of fact, in my opinion we indulged her.’

‘Really? I would gladly have paid to see her flushed face,’ Marian sniggered. ‘But perhaps you’re right. On the other hand, I consider her the least wrongdoer. She never would have participated out of her own will. She probably wouldn’t have understood the whole fuss without a clear and lengthy manual. Without Isabela’s and Varric’s explanation, I mean to say.’ She added with wry amusement, ‘So, don’t be sorry about what we´ve come up with for them.’ She cocked her head. ´I truly hope she knows by now what it was all about.’

-

While entering her hovel, Merrill stumbled over a rather large parcel lying just over the doorstep. With raised brows and boiling with curiosity she ripped apart the coarse brown paper and opened the book it revealed. Until deep in the night she kept turning page after page, her blush becoming more profound by the minute. This was more a revelation than Isabela’s stories ever had been. And it had pictures. Very bright and very exposing pictures. She wondered who had bestowed her with this gift. Could it be ..? For a couple of days she shyly eyed the handsome elf who lived next-door to her and finally worked up the courage to ask him in for a drink. It became a very interesting night in which the book proved to be more than convenient teaching material.

-

‘On the other hand,’ Fenris stated boldly, ‘what you planned for Aveline was – devilish. I have no other word for it.’

Hawke shifted so she could accept the cup of wine Fenris proffered her. He placed the bottle back into the jug in the little hole in the dirt next to the tree trunk and let his fingers wander along her face for a moment. ‘And here I was, thinking you considered her some kind of sister.’

Marian laughed heartily. ‘It’s evident you don’t have any experience with siblings whatsoever.’ To her relief she could utter this kind of teasingly remarks without him getting all wind up.  Yes, if need be we defend each other to the death but we also live to tease. This was too good an opportunity to squander.’ She took a sip. ‘The hard part was to get the letter past Seneschal Bran without him noticing, of course. But, as we already knew, it was easy enough to foretell Dumar’s reaction; he always follows the same procedure. The man is so dull and predictable. And equally dumb in that typical nobility-kind of way. He never thought it odd the letter was delivered to him by a messenger instead of Aveline herself. They should have come from the same ship, for the Maker’s sake!’ She chuckled. ‘But then again, it was all about what the message contained, that’s what fooled and blinded him.’

Needless to say they had witnessed the scene from a safe distance. After all, Isabela was not the only one acquainted with stealth.

 Fenris smiled crookedly and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. ‘I only hope you will survive her reaction to this prank,’ he said.

-

Aveline glared guardedly at the Viscount who occupied the seat on the opposite side of the impressive desk. The moment he had summoned her, she had expected an angry reprimand for shunning her duty, but instead the man sat beaming at her as a monkey that had found the key to the banana plantation.

‘Guard Captain Vallen,’ he started brightly, ‘I received a report from the mayor of Ostwick.’ To Aveline’s dismay his smile broadened. She didn’t trust it one bit. _Mayor of Ostwick..? What the hell is this about??_ The Viscount went on, shining like the sun all along the way, ‘He writes he asked for your help and that you didn’t hesitate a moment to come to his aid. He says he had heard of your wonderful results of fighting crime here in Kirkwall and indeed in just one night you wiped away a unit of Carta smugglers trying to get a foothold in his city. Well done. Well done indeed.’

Dumbfounded Aveline met his near blinding radiant wide smile. A nasty suspicion started to take form.

‘You put our city in a very good light and I want you to take the credits. The mayor expresses his hope you will be rewarded accordingly to your actions and therefore I’m throwing a dinner party this night for the most important and influential noble families and I insist you attend it as the shining centre of attention. You will be bestowed with a medal of honour.´

‘But I,’ Aveline started befuddled and with fast growing dread.

‘I expect you at eight bells. Do wear your parade armour; we want you to look as the hero you are.’

‘But,’ Aveline tried anew, almost combusting with a mix of alarm, terror and anger. And again her protest got smothered in misguided pride and joy.

‘I know you’re a busy and, besides that, modest woman but I won’t take no for an answer. See to it you’re present at eight sharp, Guard Captain. Dismissed.’

Aveline stomped off to her office, simmering with unrefined fury. She knew damn well who had delivered that so called report and whom she had to curse for looking forward to a night of sheer horror; the awful practical joke had her signature stamped all over it. ‘Hawke, you fucking bitch!’ she seethed. ‘I’ll kill you!’

-

‘What we have come up with to pester Sebastian though...’ Fenris couldn’t help laughing out loud.

‘I have to admit I never thought you were capable of something this mean. Makes me want to think twice whenever I want to play a prank on you. And talking about the shared sisterhood between me and Aveline, I thought you considered Sebastian a friend. A very good friend at that.’

Fenris’s rumbling laugh washed over her when he bent over to catch her lips in a warm kiss. ´I do. But I suppose everyone has to be taught a lesson once in a while.´

´This will be a lesson he won´t forget that easily.´

-

He had hardly passed the doors to the Chantry when he heard, ‘Ah, Sebastian, just the man I was looking for.’ For some reason or another the Grand Cleric’s voice, though friendly as always, sounded ominous. ‘Sister Geofride has fallen ill and we desperately need someone capable to keep an eye on the orphans. By chance I ran into Serah Hawke the other day and she told me you are very fond of children.’ Sebastian felt his hackles rise; a terrible feeling of foreboding overwhelmed him. _By chance? And what the... Fond of children?? Oh yes, children are adorable... from a distance and with someone else taking care of them. ‘_ I must say I was rather surprised you never told me before yourself,’ Elthina went on, radiating nothing but affability which in his eyes, however, quickly turned into nasty smugness. ‘But here is your chance to spend time with the little rascals.’

Before he could come up with an excuse or vent some kind of meagre protest he was ushered into the nursery annex Chantry school. ‘Have fun!’ Elthina said joyfully before she took her leave. Sebastian stared in panic at the host of children who all thirty-four looked expectantly back, measuring him up with conceited sharpness as children do. After a short but heavy silence, a boy with curly flaming red hair and a runny nose stepped forward and pointed at his belt buckle. ‘Is that your mum?’ he demanded to know.

Sebastian straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. ‘That is the holy Andraste,’ he explained solemnly, thinking to start a lesson but being cut short immediately.

The boy looked critically at the image. ‘Doesn’t look like Andlaste,’ he concluded, ‘she has a funny nose.’

Before Sebastian could compose an adequate answer to such blatant blasphemy the boy had already wandered off, as had the rest of the group, apparently bored with his appearance. Instead something small but very persistent started tugging at his sleeve. He looked down and met the most innocent and honest eyes in the world. ‘Brother Sebasan? Sister Geofride always has honey biscuits.’ The girl didn’t flinch under his scrutinizing stare. ‘And cold lemonade,’ she rose the stakes without as much as blinking. And again he got interfered before he could react. This time the interruption consisted out of two high pitched screaming voices. With the heroic pose of the ones willing to risk everything to prove they were able to live up to the challenge, he dived into the ball of flailing limbs and retrieved two red faced youngsters, holding them both fast at the scruff. ‘What’s the meaning of this?’ he asked sternly.

‘She stole my dolly!’ one of the two screeched, fighting viciously to get free off his firm hold.

Well, this at least was easy. ‘Stealing is a sin,’ he started confidentially, ‘you have to give it back.’

‘But she said I could play with it!’ the other girl wailed, ‘she _gave_ it to me!’

 ‘And now _I_ want to play with it!’ the first girl squealed. As to emphasise her statement she sank her teeth into his arm. Easy was turning rapidly into complicated.

 Within mere minutes Sebastian wished he were back at sea.

-

‘And I can only hope you are right about Anders,’ Fenris continued after the kiss.

Now it was Hawke’s turn to burst into laughter. ‘Believe me, I am,’ she guffawed.‘ They had gone through this before and Marian had explained the effect was worse for mages. She and the twins had discovered the stuff and dabbled in it on one memorable night in what she called their “exploring age”. Bethany had even got more bonkers than Carver and she. It seemed the mana in her sister’s system had strengthened the effect, or turned it around or made something completely different out of it. ‘Whatever the case, it was hilarious,’ Marian giggled. After some thought she added, ‘Mind you, everything at that night seemed to be hilarious.’

They had aimed for a sizzling row between Anders and Justice. As a matter of fact, in this particular situation the outcome was completely different but no less satisfactory, as they learned later.

-

Anders entered the clinic in an extremely foul mood after the return from the senseless journey. The room smelled musty after a fortnight of his absence and with an undertone of something sweet and sharp he couldn’t place, but for now he paid it no attention. He craved for a glass of – whisky, rum, brandy, well anything stronger than water but with Justice around, or rather within, he had to settle with tea. Muttering all kinds of curses under his breath he put the kettle on, filled the teapot with a generous handful of the brown leaves from the tin where he kept his tea and put a cup on the table in advance.

The trouble began not long after he had emptied his second cup and had started with his third. The tea had tasted strange, he had to admit, then again strange but not unappetizing.

‘ _Have you ever noticed the stains on the wall look like ... roses,_ ’ Justice rumbled dreamily, ‘ _it’s quite beautiful, actually.’_

Anders raised his brow in confusion. ‘What?’

‘ _Roses_ ,’ Justice repeated pensively, ‘ _nice roses, red and brown and ...well, roses ... although somewhat wilting_ ... _and don’t you just love the smell of decay in this place ... so sweet ... makes me think of my days in the Fade ... everything ... fading ... nothing like the smell or sound of lyrium of course but ...sweet ... yes, sweet, like the roses on the wall ..._ ’

Anders couldn’t come up with anything more intelligent than another puzzled, though pressing “What??” In fact he was gobsmacked.

And then Justice burst into a fit of giggles. _‘Everything fading ... fading in the Fade ..! Oh, that’s brilliant! I should write that one down! If I could hold a quill ... hahaha ... Fading in the Fade ..!’_

Soon after that Anders’s head got filled for quite a while with irritating loud and hearty titters and sniggers. Seemingly going on forever. _Fading in the Fade! Imagine that ...imagine roses ... in the Fade ... hilarious! And quills .. there’re no ..haha!_ _Roses, such beautiful roses .._ ’

‘Shut up!’ yelled Anders in dismay. ‘It’s not funny!’

Suspiciously he stared in his cup of – tea. ‘Oh bloody hell,’ he groused when the truth hit him. ‘O Hawke! You, you ... you insufferable _twat_!’ He never could have dreamed he would utter something like that, but here it was.

The worst part was that he suffered from an insatiable hunger attack an hour of what later and hardly could quench his thirst while all the time Justice kept on having his happy bout of hysteria. ‘How typical!’ he complained, ‘you get all the fun and I am stuck with the side-effects!’

-

‘But nothing compares with what we had in store for Varric,’ Marian said, ‘I almost pity the little man.’

They went silent. Remorse hung in the air.

‘Perhaps _that_ was more than a tad too cruel,’ Marian finally murmured.

‘Speaking about mean,’ Fenris said contemplatively, ‘I gather I’m the one who has to worry about waylaying you, not the other way around.’

Marian pulled herself together. ‘He _is_ Varric, he will talk his way out of it,’ she said with confidence, ‘he always does.’ And, after some seconds, ‘He set this all in motion. I mean, with his wager contest.’ She snorted morosely, ‘He had it coming.’ But still that remorse lingered.

-

Varric woke up to a disturbing rattle on his door. The person rapping the wood made it clear there was no talking out of it. Nevertheless the dwarf mumbled sleepily, ‘Go away!’ As already foreseen the person wasn’t discouraged by his reaction. Varric flew up when the door was opened but the words lying on the tip of his tongue dissolved by seeing the dwarf entering his room, or rather the beard that preceded him. There was no mistaking that beard. ‘Guild Master Harvid,’ he wheezed. And to make the scene of horror complete, the man was not alone; in fact he was accompanied by a host of dwarves, all carrying heavy and important looking notebooks. Varric froze.

‘Master Tethras,’ the other dwarf nodded stiffly, ‘I will make it short.’ (C _ould have been a nice pun coming from anyone but you,_ thought Varric sourly.) ‘No need for pleasantries,’ Guild Master Harvid droned on. _As if you knew any._ ‘We’re here to audit.’

‘Audit what?’ Varric squeaked alarmed, more awake than ever but not, as it turned out, awake enough.

‘Everything. We got a very disturbing message from your cousin Elmand about the financial running of the family business.’

Varric bolted upright. ‘That’s impossible! My cousin Elmand is nonexis-‘ Just in time he swallowed the rest of the word. _Oh stony Ancestors, what’s happening?!_

The Guild Master, though, reacted fast as a hawk. ‘He is what?’

Varric’s mind worked industriously. ‘Not well, that’s what he is, not well at all.’ Cold sweat broke out.

‘I’m very sorry to hear that. But we don’t need him to go through your registers and ledgers. So please climb out of your bed and hand us over the books. I intend to go through all the contracts and figures very thoroughly.’ The Guild Master flashed him a nasty smile. ‘We wouldn’t want to be something amiss with the business of one of our most – er – notorious members, would we now.’

The next hours would turn out to be the worst of Varric’s life. He praised himself for his insight of keeping the actual writings of the business elsewhere and being able to present the imaginatively forgeries to the stone-like dwarf who seemed to command his environment for long tormenting hours. _A Paragon of ledgers_ , Varric thought sourly and with more than a twinge of sheer panic. Nevertheless, he had the feeling of being less than two inches high, which even for a dwarf is pretty short, for more time than he cared to count. Guild Master Harvid was not one to toil with and even less to fool. When the impressive beard finally carried the dwarf outside his suite, he sagged back in a chair and with trembling fingers reached for the nearest bottle available. He had had to use all of his talents of persuasion and overwhelming charm to beat the Guild Master off his back. He felt exhausted.

 _I don’t know which one of you culprits is responsible for this but I will get your hide for it_ , he thought with murder on his mind.

-

Fenris stretched his arms above his head and pensively bit his lip. ‘What are your thoughts about the Anderfels? Or Antiva ... do you like Rivain perchance?’

Hawke wrinkled her nose in puzzlement. ‘Er, why?’

‘Because I figure it would be wise to take a long holiday somewhere far, far away.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, of course, the bunch doesn't leave it just at that.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments or criticism are very welcome!


	5. Chapter 5

Part 8: the consequences of all the revenge, considerations about more revenge and a lull before the next storm.

-                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

The mood in Varric´s suite was close to exploding. Four enraged people, _very_ enraged people, were all at the same time trying to be heard. They added, beside their indignant voices, their _very_ indignant voices, a feeling of sheer revulsion to the atmosphere. In other words, the air was crackling, if not on fire.

‘They locked me up!’ screamed Isabela. I mean, what kind of sick mind would lock up a pirate!’ Despite her quick run to and from the Alienage she still hadn’t calmed down; her eyes were ablaze with absolute fury.

Merrill, who to her own rather befuddled surprise had been dragged through Lowtown and ushered into the dwarf’s suite to be unceremoniously planted into a chair, sat next to her but she didn’t pay attention to the pirate’s outburst whatsoever. She didn’t pay attention to anything at all, so it seemed. She just stared into sweet nothing with a faraway look on her face. She hadn’t taken any offence to Isabela’s crude treatment of taking hold of her arm without the least explanation and hauling her to the Hanged Man. She had stumbled a few times along the way and it was a wonder she hadn’t ended up bumping on her behind while being dragged over the floor and up the stairs. But even that hadn’t brought her off balance because there hadn’t been any balance to start with. She wasn’t even aware that the other woman had been awfully rude, or at least impatient beyond measure. There was a whole new universe to explore and she was all too eager to do the investigation herself. As a matter of fact, she was wandering in that very universe right now and wasn’t willing to leave it, despite all the wound up people around her. She just ignored them.

To be fair, Isabela only had wanted to add Merrill’s personal experience to the general indignation, for she was certain the elf would come with her own horror story, but to her dismay the small Dalish elf stayed quiet. The pirate queen squinted at her with more than plain distrust, suddenly secretly wondering if she was some kind of accomplice. Her nasty thoughts got interrupted by Captain Man Hands.

‘They made me wear the _parade armour!’_ Aveline yelled at the top of her voice in an attempt to outmatch the pirate. ‘And forced me to attend a night filled with insufferable snobby nobles!!’ She would never forget the way Lord Armanti had walked around her to admire the material her armour was made from – forged in a faraway place she had never heard of but apparently was known for its outstanding steel. He had ogled her like she was some kind of mannequin showing the miracles of modern impenetrable armour, although his hungry eyes had far too long lingered on her breastplate, as far as she was concerned. Or had been willing to put up with. Only a small warning cough from Seneschal Bran, who surveyed the scene tensely as an anxious cat, had withheld her already clenched fist in an attempt to deal the unendurable squirt a clout that would have sent him flying to other end of the room. She still felt the urge to strangle him – to strangle _anybody_.

A log in the fireplace broke into a fountain of sparkles, underlining the fiery mood in the room. That also failed to catch Merrill’s interest. But then again, besides Isabela nobody paid her dreamily behaviour any notice; they were simply too wrapped up in their overstrained consternation. And even the pirate’s attention waned after a short while, to be precise at the moment it got absorbed once more in the angry reactions of the people surrounding her.

´I had to handle a bunch of children,´ groused Sebastian with a voice chockfull of righteous anger; he was still living the nightmare. ‘I never knew they could be such little monsters.’ It wasn’t exactly clear whom he referred to, the gang of uncontrollable orphans or the two insubordinate adults who had made him go through this hell. Remainders of glue and sugary lemonade were still sticking in his normally impeccable hair, giving him a slight look of an annoyed hedgehog. He had not been able to wash out all of the collateral damage. ‘And I’m still not entirely certain they involved the Grand Cleric,’ he added resentfully. He was as yet unwilling to believe it but somewhere he simply knew Elthina had played her part. It would be just like her to think this would be a just penalty. And her eyes had looked too innocent and at the same time too smug. He felt betrayed which fuelled his anger even more.

´You think that´s bad?!’ Anders put in his incensed word on a high pitched tone. ‘They drugged Justice! Do you have any idea what a horror it is to have a stoned spirit giggling and sputtering his twisted mind out in your own head? For hours?!’ He ignored the feeble protest of that same twisted spirit who only now came more or less to his senses. Whatever those senses might be. _Shut up_! the mage growled inwardly. Y _ou have pestered me enough. Just leave me in peace and don’t raise your irritable voice for at least a week. Roses!_ he added snorting with sarcastic disgust. Justice sank shamefully back in a distant crevice of his mind.

The other three almost fell over each other to ensure him as loud as they could their ordeals had been of a whole different order, i.e. much worse. The noise level became almost unbearable.

Varric banged the tabletop with his fist. ‘Would you all calm down for just a moment?! Yes? Thank you.’ He took a breath before he continued. ‘I told – them,’ (for a moment it seemed he considered a whole different expression to describe the two miscreants but at the last moment changed his mind; instead he breathed anew, deeply). ‘I told them I took a bow after the Ostwick-affair,’ he grimaced with difficulty. ‘This time I think I must erect a monument.’

‘Oh really,’ Isabela sneered, ‘it’s very well for you to talk; I suppose they went easy on you. After all, Hawke has always been your best friend. I bet you didn’t have to suffer like we did.’ She underlined her words with a dark scowl.

Aveline, Sebastian and Anders also turned their undivided angry attention to Varric, in complete agreement with Isabela’s statement, waiting expectantly for his humble apologies with piercing demanding glares.

They almost withered under the unfathomable hurt gaze the dwarf gave them in return.

‘They had the nerve to sic the Merchants Guild on me.’ Varric was nearly inaudible in his distress. As a matter of fact, he was at the very moment still busy trying to recover from the confrontation, or rather clash, and his mind wandered around in a state of disbelief. He still could hardly grasp the fact it really had happened, that Hawke – and Fenris for that matter – had been able to come up with such an immoral torment. ‘The Merchants Guild,’ he repeated with emphasis to make certain everyone present understood the gravity of the drama. (He mused, not for the first time this day, that in Orzammar the incident would have been turned into some kind of heroic saga. Then again, there was no such thing as a Merchants Guild in the Dwarven Kingdom, not in the way it existed on Topside. The only silver lining to the rotten place as far as he was concerned.) ‘The Merchants Guild,’ he said again in case his audience still didn’t get it, ‘in the person of Guild Master Harvid himself.’ His expression became even more wounded. He scratched the stubbles on his chin and only now the others realised he hadn’t bothered with shaving this day. A bad sign. ‘They made me undergo an audit.’

An intense silence fell after his words. No-one dared to even let out a breath. They _did_ understand the gravity of the drama. All too well. They saw the saga develop before their very eyes so to say.

‘Ouch,’ Aveline finally volunteered empathetically.

‘So much for friendship,’ Isabela murmured.

The dwarf suppressed an upcoming shiver. With herculean effort he tried to approach something similar to a smile but, despite his brave attempt, he managed only a rather maniacal grimace. ´You all have to agree with me they came up with the perfect payback.’ He frowned pensively. ‘For all of us,’ he continued, while he with all the strength he could muster forced down the urge to break something. Preferably something valuable.

Grudgingly they did agree, for the moment willing to put their suffering in his shadow, still overwhelmed with what he had had to endure. Not to mention they got nervous from his eerily flaming eyes, the only indication of his seething rage in his otherwise straight and deceivingly calm, though stubbly face.

All except for one. ´Hmm,´ Merrill murmured, her soft voice sounding like a piercing high note of a brass trumpet in the silence; she was still glowing. Actually, she was even now drifting in complete other realms. The collected looks turned at her as one, and not only Isabela looked suspiciously at this time.

‘And what did they have in store for you?’ Anders demanded to know. ‘We never heard _you_ complain.’

Disturbed from her reverie Merrill looked up in confusion to sink back into happiness the moment after. ‘In store? Oh, I suppose they had a book in store.’ She smiled vaguely. ‘Yes. A book. A very nice book.’

The others stared at her in bewilderment and as one (wo)man decided to let her be. There was no way they would be able to understand her, let alone figure out the floating enigmatic smile she offered them. Or rather the world in general.

‘Right,’ Varric said with a last puzzled glance at the Dalish elf, ‘I don’t know about you lot but I don’t want this – exceedingly payback let go unpunished.’

‘I thought you wanted to erect a monument,’ Aveline said sourly. She didn’t like this at all; yes, she was angry to the bone but before you knew it they got ensnared in a vicious circle of never-ending revenge and she feared not only they themselves would undergo the consequences.

‘That was figuratively speaking,´ Varric grumbled determinedly, ´right now I want to kick them in the fork. Hard. And very literally.’

´What did you have in mind?’ Isabela informed eagerly. ‘Because I have a few jolly good ideas.’

‘I don’t doubt you have,’ Varric replied with a very unpleasant grin, ‘but I think I have the perfect payback.’

Aveline glared suspiciously at the dwarf. In the back of her mind she already saw Kirkwall go up in flames. She was torn apart between wanting a punishment for what she had gone through, and a fierce urge to keep the peace in her city. No, she didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all.

-

In contradiction to the near igniting mood in Varric’s suite, for the first time in – a fortnight or three weeks or maybe it was better to say for long years considering the strange history of the place, there hung an atmosphere of serene calm in the mansion. Fenris’s mansion. More or less their mansion by now. Or perhaps peace and quiet hovered over it, or better even had seeped into it. And peace and quiet was something completely different from stale silence and decayed stillness accentuated by dust, cobwebs and mouldy skeletons. The astonishment of finding delighting, near overwhelming love could only take that much of one’s energy, as could said energy only come up for a limited time with clever ideas of all sorts of creative revenge.

Indeed, Hawke and Fenris simply craved for calm after all the uproar. Making love, taking revenge and not to mention turning Fenris’s place upside down had taken its toll. The place had never looked more tidy or peaceful. Even the bed had been made, and more astounding, had been left alone for a few hours at least. Wow. A few hours. It must be a record. The walls had been redecorated with paint instead of wine and shards of glass and the floor had been swept; the leftovers had been thrown away and the cushions been placed back where they belonged. The kitchen, probably to its own astonishment, was clean and with every surviving plate in place.

Fenris lounged in his favourite chair; his long legs, crossed at the ankles, stretched towards the cold hearth (it was still summer and he was no dwarf, after all). He was reading a book, keenly making use of his recently acquired capability. Surprisingly it was a history about the Tevinter Imperium. He had decided he wanted to know every detail about the place he hated to the core simply to understand what had cost its depravity. And to find out why elves were treated as second-hand citizens and slaves to boot. He knew a lot, of course; he probably knew most of the unsettling dark facts, but it wouldn’t hurt to learn more. It was an important piece of his past and, who knew, it would help to regain more of his lost memory.

Hawke had nestled in the other chair, her legs tucked under her, with a collection of Ferelden fairytales in her lap. Her father had read so many of those intriguing stories to her when she was little and she still savoured the precious evenings spent together. She never grew tired of the legends about stout knights fighting all kinds of wrongs and fables about witty animals; reading them made her feel close to her father, gave her the feeling she travelled back into the time that she and her family lived their relatively unworried life in Lothering. Now and again she looked up to gaze at Fenris who seemed to be lost in the text he was reading. He radiated a kind of content peacefulness that was infectious. It seemed he was the centre of the blissful serenity that in concentric circles rippled away to occupy the whole place. Marian thought it rather amazing to see him like this and to realise he had been as taut as a bowstring such a short time ago. It was extraordinary what finding love, and making it as much as possible, could do for a person. She could simply sense his mind being at ease, undoubtedly for the first time in his life. Smiling inwardly Hawke contemplated that they, after all the turbulence, this afternoon looked like an old married couple, just happy with sharing in mutual silence the ultimate intimacy of reading a book without the need of even conversation to underline the warm loving feelings they harboured for each other.

She had only turned back to her own book for a few moments when an indistinct rumour caught her attention. She stood up and walked over to the window, trying to find the source of the noise. ‘From the sound of it there’s quite a crowd gathered at the Chantry square,’ she guessed out loud, craning her neck.

Without looking up Fenris turned a page. ‘Probably someone posted a very interesting message on the Chantry board,’ he commented nonchalantly. He also had heard the commotion, his sensitive elven ears had most likely detected the sound sooner than she, but he had paid it no heed whatsoever. This was Kirkwall after all, commotion was the city’s middle name. From the corner of his eye he saw his lover wriggle at the windowsill, trying to twist her neck into an impossible angle to catch a glimpse of what was going on and he smiled silently. He was familiar with her notorious tendency for snooping (though she blamed Isabela for doing the same; speaking about pots and kettles – ha!) and knew for sure she didn’t intend to let this go just like that. She definitely wouldn’t be able to sleep unless she’d find out what it was all about. So he wasn’t surprised when he heard her say, ‘I’m going to take a look.’

The elf smiled crookedly. ‘Of course you are. But remember, Marian, curiosity killed the cat.’

‘A good thing then I’m not a cat,’ she smiled warmly back while she walked passed him to reach the door.

With force he smothered a sudden mischievous impulse to lift his foot to let her stumble. He remembered how she had looked a few weeks – a month – er, alright, a _time_ ago, snuggled close to him in his arms; how she had reminded him of a very contented cat lying in the warm sunlight. It was no coincidence the remark sprung up in his mind. ‘Are you certain? According to the scratches on my back you have definitively something feline in you,’ he reacted straight-faced to her words. Through his lashes he noticed her satisfactory reaction.

Marian stopped in mid-pace and twirled sharply. She tried to look offended but couldn’t hide an expression that lingered between pride and mirth. The last sentiment took the lead. ‘Really? Next time we make love I can try to purr,’ she chuckled, and added in a more dangerous tone, ‘or tear you to shreds.’

Without lifting his head Fenris raised his brow in amusement. ‘Yes, you can always try and who knows I will like it too. Now, please go down there and satisfy your infamous curiosity before it tears _you_ to shreds.’

He enjoyed her merry laugh that together with her irresistible shining personality flowed down the stairs and through the hall until it abruptly got cut off when she closed the door behind her. With a little chortle he returned to the grave, though intriguing history of the Tevinter Imperium.

His peace wouldn’t last long. Neither would his cheery mood.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of shocked reactions ahead.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whatever Varric had in mind, it surely upset Hawke...
> 
> Enjoy!

Part 9: the lull before the storm turns into a real tempest. (Whatever happened to the heated kiss that started this all ..?)

-

Completely flabbergasted and not able to react for several long moments Hawke stood gaping at the announcement on the Chantry board. She had had to elbow her way through the throng that had assembled in the square to take note of the message and right now she was very much regretting that action. She wished to be back in the peaceful environment of Fenris’s mansion, she wished she’d never had answered to the call of her curiosity. She wished she had ignored that call so she would never had to take notice of this – this atrocity. Not only the message attached to the board disturbed her highly but, even more, she was painfully aware she was surrounded by noble biddies that glanced sidelong at her with what only could be described as pure enmity if not hatred. With a generous splash of loath. They were always quick to grab their chance with both hands when there was juicy gossip involved. _Like flies being attracted by a midden,_ Hawke thought harshly, _they’re even worse than the fishwives in Lowtown they despise so much._ No doubt they had warned each other, or better had commanded their servants to do so, and now they stood with grim affronted faces chirping out their indignation. Despite their hostile veiled glares they succeeded in pretending the unknowing instigator of the turmoil wasn’t present. _They_ were the ones who turned the message into an atrocity, not the message itself.

‘Poor Leandra,’ she heard at the background of the disturbing noise her own mind made, ‘not only did she die in that unsavoury way but now her only surviving daughter wants to marry one of those disgusting knife-ears. Can you imagine that!’

‘And not just any knife-ear but some repulsive vermin from Tevinter. The audacity!’

Hawke’s throat went dry and she clenched her fists. She had always detested the expression   
“knife-ear”; such a blatant statement of a certain breed of humans who were more than willing to give wind to their prejudice and pathetic, though dangerous intolerance. And now, while hearing the elf she loved so much and beyond question being called by that vile name and, even worse, being depicted as vermin, she had a very hard time to control her anger. She wanted to strangle the woman who had uttered those awful condescending words. Her hands were trembling with the effort to check her fury.

Remorselessly the women went on, all the while keeping up the pretence they didn’t notice her presence. A voice at the back of her mind tried to warn her that they were only trying to get back at someone who in their eyes was nothing but a nasty upstart. Nouveau riche had been better, simpler. Money could iron out so many nuisances. They simply didn’t accept a woman who had worked her way up from Lowtown, even though this particular woman was the scion of one of the most renowned old noble families of Kirkwall. The name Amell might carry some dignity in this city even now, their latest offspring certainly did not. Not any amount of money could iron _that_ flaw out. She was from _Ferelden_ , sweet blood of Andraste. They had tolerated her mother, even celebrated her coming back, even more had been willing to forgive her her silly running off with that devastating handsome mage – so stupid but o so romantic – but never would be that forgiving towards her. She wasn’t born here. She was not from this place. She was not their kind of people. She was a rogue and not to be trusted. She had a father who had been a mage. She came from backwater Ferelden. So, altogether they considered her dangerous because they couldn’t fathom her. In their eyes she was not much better than a “knife-ear”. Hawke gritted her teeth and very hard attempted to listen to that wise voice. But it turned out to be a too difficult challenge.

‘I’ve heard she easily could have saved her mother if she had paid more attention,’ one of the cows said with such malicious joy it made Hawke nauseated. It became harder not to start a carnage.

‘And _I_ have heard the girl wasn’t able, or should I say _willing_ , to save her sister either,’ another voice cried out with evil delight, ‘evidently she doesn’t care much for her family. That would explain her revolting choice of husbands.’

Hus _bands_ no less. As if she had worn out a battalion of spouses already. Hawke got serious difficulty with restraining herself.

A new voice added with acted grieve, ‘I always thought the eldest daughter never knew her place, what with roaming about the streets in the middle of the night and boozing in that hideous Hanged Man.’ She delicately wrinkled her nose with disgust.

It was quite a miracle how they knew about this but then again, their kind of filth had their spies everywhere. They even beat Varric. Obviously.

_I roam about the streets in the middle of the night to wipe out gangs of criminals so you can sleep safely in your expensive beds!_ Hawke wanted to scream, _and I think I deserve a pint or two after that exertion! Perhaps you should try the hideous Hanged Man yourself for once, it would certainly pick you up!_ Not a moment later she realised that, in reality, she had shouted the words out loud but the snooty shrews made-believe they hadn’t heard her. At least they carried on marvellously with ignoring her. In the bell tower of the Chantry the hour of six was noisily announced and made it easier for the gossiping noblewomen to pretend the affronting heated words never had been spoken.

‘Indeed, _can_ you imagine, the impudence of taking an elf as husband,’ a new twat piped up after the echoes of the heavy bronze bells had faded away. She sounded as if she was busy choking on a hot potato stuck in her throat. ‘And to think she had such a sweet compliant sister. A real Andrastian too, unlike the eldest. Poor Bethany, she was the real noble of the two, or so I heard. I know for certain she never would have made such an abhorrent choice. So sad she turned out to be a mage. Leandra must have been devastated when she found out. Perhaps better the girl died in the Deep Roads.’

Hawke stiffened. Even the urge to commit murder dwindled at hearing those appalling words. She wasn’t able to lift a finger or raise her voice, imprisoned in the shock that for the moment overtook her. The little wise voice at the back of her mind abruptly got numb, drowned in the horrible memory of being forced to kill her own sister back in those dreadful Deep Roads because she had got infected with the blight and there had been no other way. It had quite quickly boiled down to the impossible choice of killing her or letting her go through the insufferable pain of the taint taking her over. She would have died anyway, only more slow. And what did those spoiled coiffed and dressed-up twats know about that ..?! Nothing. She wished she could drag them through those trenches to let them see. She pressed her lips. As if that would make any difference. They would never understand. They would only complain about the dirt and the dark and the lack of a decent bed.                         

‘Indeed,’ bitch number four responded with cruel satisfaction, as to underline her sad thoughts, ‘the scandal it would have caused if a known mage would have moved into Hightown, even a mage as noble as Bethany Amell! I shiver at the thought!’

Suddenly Marian roared back to life as if she got shaken by a pair of invisible hands. Even the sensible little voice couldn’t hold her back. Without thinking she twirled around and pointed at the woman who had uttered those cruel words with a near combusting accusing finger. She almost put out an eye with her rash action. The appointed noble recoiled as if attacked by a snake and unwillingly bumped into the Chantry Board. ‘Her name was Bethany _Hawke_ ,’ Marian yelled and only much later she wondered why of all the words she could have thrown into the stunned woman’s face those were the ones that bubbled up at that heavy moment.

_And the answer, she realised at that much later and much more quiet time, was simply because the name Amell at that moment in the Chantry square got so badly misused she couldn’t bear it; both her mother and her sister got desecrated. And, perhaps even worse, at the same time her beloved father was denied. His name wasn’t even worth mentioning. Both her mother’s_ and _father’s legacies got dragged through the mud and she wasn’t willing to accept it. Simply hearing her sister being named Amell while she was technically a Hawke caused the effect of the imaginary fire arrow in the barrel of gaatlok._ _In hindsight it was a sheer wonder no blood was spilled._

Hawke ferociously spun back to the others who eyed her guardedly and more than a little frightened by now. No way could they keep up their pose of ignoring her after this. Her eyes spat fire. And no-one could have been prepared for the words she spewed at them. It should have been about her mother, or sister. It should have been about her legacy. Or, if all other options failed, about that spouse who no-one ever dared to call a knife-ear after her vicious rant. It never should had been about – _this_.

Because – _this_ – was too dangerous. Well hidden secrets, or better, well-known facts nobody spoke about because it was not done, were dragged out of their dark grimy putrid reeking hiding places to the surface where they blinked in unpleasant surprise at the bright light of Truth.

The upstart fought them with their own weapons and they weren’t prepared for that. It was the last thing they’d expected. How the hell could she, this little vixen, know about – _this_ – anyway?!

Perhaps they could learn a thing or two from Varric, after all.

‘And can anyone of you bitches finally explain to me what exactly is wrong with elves? I happen to know that more than half of you hypocrites have an elven lover, or should I say a well paid gigolo, and that Jethann in the Blooming Rose is working his prick off to satisfy your horny wishes.’ She added with malevolent glee while eyeing their combined shocked faces, ‘And the funny thing is that at not precisely the same time your devoted husbands make use of Faith or of one of the other whores and in some occasions of Jethann as well, the poor overworked _elf_.’ With grim satisfaction she took in their unified shaken expression. Savagely she went on, ‘At least I have a man who loves and respects me and is faithful. He furthermore is totally satisfied with me and only me; he doesn’t have a need for Jethann or any other whore or anyone at all. That’s evidently more than you all can say! With other words, he has more worth than all of you and your wretched husbands together. He symbolizes your standards where you conceal them in sneaky subterfuge and adultery.’ She snatched the parchment that held the ridiculous announcement from the board. ‘ _Nobility_ ,’ she sneered with such contempt the gathering cringed. She lashed out at another noblewoman who stood in her way and who dived quickly out of her path in a very un-ladylike way, and marched back to the mansion, head held high but seething and raging and cursing all the way.

The other women stared open-mouthed at her rapidly vanishing back that until the end of the long flight of steps kept radiating a mix of rage, indignation and victory.

They had tried to hit her right into the core but to their shame silently had to admit it, in fact, had been the other way around. For a moment they made an effort to continue their venomous conversation but the mood had gone sour. They glared suspiciously at each other to find out who was stealing their precious elven lover away from them with the promise of more gold. The insufferable Marian Hawke hadn’t said it aloud, nor had confirmed anything like that was going on, but she more or less had insinuated such goings on. And since they already trusted the others as far as they could throw them, they were willing to believe it. After a short while they silently scuttled off with their tales between their legs. The fun was over; the nasty upstart had all but spoiled it.

They were followed by their servants who were hardly able to smother their giggles.

-

Fenris immediately sensed something was terribly wrong when Marian entered the house. Not only the door shut with a thunderous clap but also she stomped up the stairs with all the elegance of a rampaging bull. Alarmed he tossed the book he was no longer reading on the table and jumped up to intercept her. He almost collided with her the moment she stormed into the room and staggered back when she pushed a piece of parchment under his nose.

‘This,’ she hissed, ‘screams for blood.’

Before he thoughtlessly would jump for his sword and run off to attack whoever or whatever had put her in this state of mind, he considered it better first to read the message she so gracefully had delivered. The elf’s eyes skimmed the words. To be honest with rising amusement. In fact, he had a hard time not to burst into laughter.

_“We have the great pleasure and immeasurable honour to announce the engagement between the Lady Marian Hawke, only survivor and legal heiress of the well known noble House Amell, and the honourable Elf Fenris of Minrathous. The marriage will take place in the Chantry. Information of the exact date and time will follow.”_

He had to bite his lip to keep a straight face. He could see the joke of it but for some reason Marian couldn’t and he feared she would kill him if he’d show his merriment this very moment. He could almost literally feel the simmering rage radiating from her body. Cautiously he cleared his throat. ‘The dwarf is resourceful, I must give him that,’ he said neutrally. Because there was no question about who was behind this.

‘The dwarf is an insufferable piece of nugshit!’ she raved in response. ‘But that’s not the worst part!’

‘It isn’t?’ he asked, confused. He had assumed the – in his eyes hilarious – text on the parchment was what had triggered her fury. Bearing in mind the strange, and somewhat tight discussion they had had about marriage not long ago, he could hardly believe she would be so wind up about this fake announcement. There’re had to be more. And he feared for that “more”. It could be nothing good.

‘Not by far,’ she as good as snarled, underlining his worries. ‘Picture this: I was surrounded by noble backbiters, attracted by the saucy message, who seized the occasion to virtually declare I am to blame for the deaths of both my mother and sister.’

He grew rigid the very moment and could hardly stifle a strong swearword. His merry mood at once turned and he began to understand why she was so upset. His first impulse was to rush outside and give those so-called nobles a good piece of his mind but, besides the fact it would probably only make things worse, it took just one look at Marian’s distressed face to let him understand his presence was needed here. He had never seen her like this before, red hot with ferocity and at the same time at the brink of a serious nervous breakdown. He realised he had to handle this with extreme care.

‘I hate those sickening vile bitches with their smug faces, gloating over my failures!’ Hawke growled with that low now more than ever menacing voice while flailing her fists threatening around – he but just could avoid being hit – ‘I want to gut them, kill them slowly, show them their own innards, drag –‘

Fenris caught her floundering wrists and locked them in a firm grip. ‘Calm down, Marian, this leads to nothing.’ He understood very well he seriously risked being knocked unconscious but she made no effort to punch him or even break free from his grasp. On the other hand, she kept on ranting. ‘That’s still not all! You should have heard what they said about you, the filthy vipers! Or perhaps better you didn’t hear.’ She stood on the verge of breaking into pieces right now.

While holding her in a fast, though as gentle grip as possible at the given circumstances, he flashed her a slightly sarcastic smile. ‘I can imagine what they said. I’ve heard it all my life.’

Marian stamped her foot in impotent fury. ‘That’s no excuse!’ she all but bawled. She was near to tears. ‘They called you vermin!’ And finally she sagged. She produced a serious sniff and deflated; she shivered as if she’d caught a bad fever and started to cry. ‘How dare they!’ she sobbed. ‘You’re the most wonderful person I ever met! They don’t know you, _I_ know you. How dare they condemn you!’

Fenris let out a sigh and gathered her in his arms. ‘Don’t worry about it, I’m used to it,’ he tried to reassure her; to no avail he found out soon after.

‘That’s still no excuse,’ she interrupted him, weeping harder.

He sank back in the chair, taking her with him in his lap. She put her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder. ‘I hate them,’ she spluttered helplessly, feeling utterly miserable. ‘I hate them all. They have some nerve to call themselves noble! They’re lower than the lowliest lowlife in Lowtown.’

Fenris chuckled softly. ‘That’s a lot of low.’ He was touched by her grief. He was aware she despised bigotry but nevertheless was surprised by the vicious way she handled, or rather did not handle at all, the mean attack of the nobility. Personally he was more troubled by their foul comments about the deaths of Bethany and Leandra. Although she seldom spoke about it he knew all too well she still struggled with what she considered her responsibility for both disturbing occurrences. He didn’t agree but there it was. The last thing she needed was a bunch of harpies stirring up those feelings of guilt. Tenderly he let his fingers travel up and down her back in an effort to quieten her.

Marian let out a deep, deep sigh. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I know what those bitches are like,’ she mumbled, ‘and still I fall for it.’ She grimaced forcefully. ’I suppose Varric didn’t foresee this, at least I hope for his health that’s the case.’

‘I suppose he didn’t,’ Fenris agreed, lovingly ruffling her hair, ‘and there’s no need to apologize. I understand.’ In the meantime he fervently searched for something to make her feel better. ‘Don’t you want to get even with the dwarf? We could think about a thing or two to pester him with.’ It was far from brilliant and not even what he wanted but it was at the moment the only subject he could come up with to distract her. He didn’t get disappointed.

In response to his desperate endeavour she heaved her head and he saw a promising spark of cheerfulness shining through the lingering tears. ‘Do share,’ she said.

Yes, he succeeded in his plan but little he knew how much he would come to regret this. In retrospect it had been better he had made love to her as that needed distraction.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, of cource, Hawke comes up with a fitting answer.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

Part 10

A kiss, so many consequences, and now a sudden unexpected turn... Well, just read on and find out.

-

‘Do you really think this is a good idea?’ Fenris asked hesitantly. He wasn’t happy at all with Hawke’s suggestion. Well, suggestion ... it sounded more like an irreversible decision. They had been discussing the subject for what seemed like long exhausting hours. With an almost unsettling ferocity Hawke had come up with the most appalling ideas about what to do to Bianca or Varric’s chest hair to slake her hunger for revenge. Somehow she had managed to change the elf’s cautious efforts to steer her away from the tiresome topic into a kind of encouragement. He was certain she did it deliberately. And despite those careful and tentative efforts, he hadn’t succeeded in calming her down; she was still as wound up as a spring. Even more so, he thought wistfully.

‘You are right, fiddling with his crossbow or wrecking his physical pride is far too obvious,’ she had said vigorously, ‘he will see that coming from miles away. Besides, it’s not original.’ And then, to his dismay, she had come up with this one.

It wasn’t the idea as such he disapproved of, but to be honest he had enough of the whole business; it was turning into a never-ending cycle of revenge. As far as he was concerned, the affair had been closed with Varric’s latest practical joke but the problem was Hawke was involved as well and she was definitively not willing to bury the hatchet. Besides that, this time _he_ had been the stupid one to bring up the idea of a counter-attack and now he couldn’t think of a way to talk it out of her head. The foul gossiping noblewomen in the Chantry square had awoken the worst in her and she seemed to be unstoppable in her urge to get back at the dwarf. As if she could punish the aristocracy by doing just that. With his silvery green eyes he warily followed her pace restlessly through the room. He appreciated she still was on edge due to the unjust but, nevertheless, painful accusations which was the reason he didn’t vent his opinion that strongly. Not only because he wanted to treat her with care but he also held his own wellbeing, and the by now pristine state of the mansion, close in mind. He wasn’t certain what she would do if he took up the courage to waylay her but he suspected it would be something devastating.

He had seen her killing demons, Tal Vashoth and all sorts of human scum in such a straightforward and determined way it made him think twice. She may look like a slender woman with a friendly smile for even a stranger but he knew better. In that slender body she harboured vicious speed and lethal accuracy and behind that friendly smile lurked a deadly determination, and thus certain death, for anyone who betrayed her or the ones she cared about. He wasn’t afraid she would suddenly pick up the urge to kill him or their friends but he didn’t look forward to a nasty squabble. By now he knew what she sounded like when she got really annoyed. It already had laid his soul open. Almost surgically. She had been right, back then, but he still cringed at the memory. _Yes, nice. Pick that one word out off the jumble. Great._ He abruptly turned his attention back to her.

Hawke stuck out her chin with harsh determination. ‘The dwarf wants a happy married couple, the dwarf will get a happy married couple.’ She caught his anxious expression and translated it wrongly. ‘You do know it’s just make believe, don’t you? Some sort of, er, sham.’ She flashed him a short grim smile. ‘I would never drag you into a marriage against your will. You’ve shown your roaring enthusiasm about the blasted matter already the other night. And you bloody well know I agree with you.’ 

He made an impatient gesture. ‘Yes I know, but I don’t see why you think Varric will -‘

She interrupted him before he could finish the sentence. ‘He will be livid when he finds out we got married, _so-called_ married, without him present, trust me.’ She made another tour around the room, representing a classic example of pure tension.

He didn’t bear warm feelings for her plan but since Marian had got really hurt by the references to the deaths of her mother and sister he was willing to humour her. He grimaced inwardly. As if he could’ve been able to stop her. At least, he thought with weary resignation, she didn’t want to demolish something. Although deep in his heart he, just as Aveline, started to fear the whole affair could only end with a big bang. An all-destroying one.

‘And, if I may ask, how do you think to trick the dwarf?’ He was clutching at straws; he knew it all too well, but nonetheless hoped fervently she hadn’t thought that one through and that it would buy him some time to change her mind as yet.

Hawke stopped in mid-pace and beamed at him with bright wickedness, shattering his meagre hopes. With an edgy motion she wiped the bangs that had fallen into her eyes out of her face. ‘I just thought of a solution to that particular problem but I need you to be on the lookout. We have to go to the Keep.’ Her eyes, at this moment, were so bright they could outshine the sun. ‘Come on, let’s go now. It’s way after the evening bells and night has fallen. If we’re careful no-one will notice us.’ She turned abruptly and with brisk strides hurried to the stairs.

‘What?’ He feared she would cause a catastrophe. ‘What are you scheming?!’

‘You’ll see!’ he heard her merry voice call out somewhere in the hallway. Groaning inwardly he followed her. He seemed to have no other option.

-

To his dismay, though with reluctant admiration, Fenris nervously witnessed not half an hour later how Marian nimble as a chipmunk climbed up the wall of the Keep and broke in through a window on the first floor. As she had observed earlier night had fallen, although he had been too tense to notice back then, and it was pitch-dark but for the few burning lampposts that cast circles of sickly yellow light. The streets had emptied out but even so Fenris glanced attentively around in case some unexpected passerby would get aware of his lover’s illegal antics. He had still no idea what she was doing, except taking a huge risk of being thrown into the Keep’s prison by Aveline herself. To his dread he saw a patrol of two guardsmen draw near to the place where he stood and he shrank further back into the shadows. Luckily the patrol strolled leisurely by, deep in conversation and thankfully not paying attention to the higher regions of the building whatsoever. He let out a slow sigh of relief when they had passed and let his hand, that hovered over the hilt of his sword, relax and drop down. He looked up, hoping Hawke would reappear within short time. ‘You’ll be the death of me,’ he grumbled under his breath. Time went by tormenting slow but finally Hawke’s vague silhouette showed up at the window-pane and soon after she clattered back down.

‘Tsk,’ she commented disapprovingly when she reached him, ‘a Keep full of guardsmen and not one is watching the windows. I should bring this to Aveline’s attention.’

He didn’t bother with reacting to her snarky remark. ‘And now?’ he said curtly, feeling at the end of his tether. Especially those two at random passing Guardsmen had worked on his nerves. Not to mention he still had no inkling about she was aiming at.

‘Now we’re going to my place. We need an accomplice.’ If she noticed his disquiet she didn’t show it. She just strode along with determined strides.

She called out the name of her steward the moment she crossed the threshold of her estate and walked over to her desk. In the meantime she produced an important looking piece of parchment and waved with it at Fenris. ‘This,’ she said with a dazzling smile, ‘is an official marriage contract. As you can see it has the seal of the Viscount and all _and_ his signature, skilfully forged if I may say so myself. Took some time, sorry about that. Seneschal Bran will not be pleased when in the morning he finds his stationery cupboard broken open but a fat lot I care.’

Fenris shook his head but, despite himself and although he made a great effort at looking as stern as possible, he had to smile as well. She was irresistible in her smug enthusiasm and he simply couldn’t help himself. He took a deep breath and somehow he recuperated although he hadn’t been aware he had been _that_ tense. _Thank all the gods she didn’t kill anybody..._

‘Messere!’ Bodahn skittered into the parlour. He got overtaken by Hawke’s marbari Tempest who did his name credit by charging into the parlour like a thunderstorm, be it a very bright and happy one. Hawke braced herself but nevertheless he almost knocked his mistress off her feet while he jumped her with unleashed enthusiasm. ‘ _Yes yes I love you too you insufferable lovable idiot and I missed you and will you just back down you silly dog good there you go. Now shush.’_

With amused bewilderment Fenris surveyed the scene and could only admire the hound for the unquestionable love he radiated rather brawny, and as well the way Hawke curbed him with a gentle hand and those in a low and composed voice spoken words. It calmed Tempest down somewhat but didn’t stop him from circling her with frisky zest.

‘Ah, Bodahn, you’re here,’ Marian continued slightly out of breath after she had succeeded in fencing off Tempest. She put the parchment, which had stayed miraculously undamaged under the marbari’s fierce expressions of affection, on the desk. ‘I need you to sign this paper as a witness to our wedding.’ She turned to pick up a quill and dipped it into the ink-well.

The dwarf’s eyes flew wide and fluttered to the elf’s unperturbed expression. ‘Er, wedding..?’ he said hesitantly. Fenris just shrugged.

Hawke waved her free hand nonchalantly in the direction of her confused steward. ‘Don’t worry, Bodahn, it’s not for real; I would have warned you beforehand if that were the case. I mean, with the flower arrangements and such. Or the purchasing of casks of bubble-wine... and cake I suppose...’ A short pause indicated she was pondering the prospect. Pondering probably all the prospects springing into mind at this puzzling moment. Both elf and dwarf stared mesmerised at her. She shook her head to clear her mind and went on, ‘But Varric needs to be taught a lesson.’ With determination she returned to the task at hand. She offered Fenris the quill. ‘To you the first honour,’ she said sweetly.

Fenris raised one dark eyebrow. ‘The honour of taking part in a charade?’ he retorted fairly sarcastically, but nevertheless he signed the fake contract. To Marian’s surprise, after she and a rather stunned Bodahn had signed as well, the elf drew her in a tight embrace and kissed her. ‘If we have to play a game we can as well make it as real as possible and get the most out of it,’ he explained with a lopsided grin, ‘and besides that, I believe _I_ was the one who said we could at least practice.’

Marian burst out laughing and Tempest added to the general joy with bouncing around them and yapping excitedly until Hawke ordered him to his usual spot before the hearth.  

‘And how long do you want to hide in here _this_ time?’ Fenris informed after the peace had returned.

‘I don’t plan on hiding here at all. You recommended a holiday somewhere far far away as  
I remember quite well, and since it’s custom for newlyweds to go on a honeymoon, I suggest we do just that.’

Fenris let go of her warm body and looked pensively. ‘I’m not sure I want to go somewhere too far,’ – he smiled roguishly – ‘far away while Varric may be up to Maker knows what, after this.’

‘Hmm, you have a valid point,’ Marian had to admit, leaning back and resting a hand on the surface of her desk to keep her equilibrium, since her lover had retrieved his arms and had taken a step back. ‘But I really don’t feel the appeal of being cooped up in here. Especially not with this nice weather.’ Her face lighted up when an idea hit her. ‘What about we go camping for a few days on Sundermount?’ She got a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. ‘You know, traipsing through dirt, frolicking in the woods, or not in the woods because apparently trees get jealous, that kind of things so you can get in touch with your true elven nature.’

Fenris looked aghast. ‘You’re not serious I hope?’

She shot him a brilliant smile. ‘As a matter of fact I am. Think about it! We can go fishing and swimming, sit by a romantic campfire at night ...’ her eyes became dreamily, ‘make love under the stars ... it will be great!’

‘Being attacked by wild animals, pounced upon by demons, getting soaking wet in sudden rain showers ...’ Fenris grunted in response, ‘yes I can see all the wonderful attractions of camping in the hills of Sundermount.’ He got uninvited nasty visions of cold wet nights full of creaky and eerie growling noises he had heard and underwent while being forced to spend his time outdoors when he was on the run. Certainly they had camped before, when they were trekking along the hills and the Wounded Coast on some mission, and every time he had had difficulties with getting asleep or with sleeping at all. Sleeping over all had been an issue until he had surrendered to her, and her warm assuring body had become a part of his nights. Sleep had been rare as diamonds. Until she had started to share his nights and his bed. And his whole existence. He took a deep breath.

From his cosy spot Tempest huffed resentfully as if to make clear he definitively saw the attractions of camping. All of them. Even of the pouring rain.

Marian tilted her head and tried to melt her lover with her most pleading look. It was a very powerful and successful attempt and Fenris knew at the very moment he would give in. ‘Please? I promise that if you don’t like it we will return to the estate and hide in the cellar between the spiders. Just give it a chance.’

Forcefully Fenris shook off the awful visions and raised both his hands in capitulation. Spending warm summer nights in the open with her would be completely different from the fearsome ones he had gone through on his own. In the same way he, to his own amazement, suddenly was able to sleep like a log as long as he held her in his arms, it could well be he, or rather she, would hold the frightening feelings at bay. He contemplated she knew little to nothing about those past nights and perhaps somewhere in these new nights he would feel comfortable to tell her about all the things that haunted him. All those things he hadn’t told her yet, though she had a right to know. According to the way she had handled his inner fears and disturbances up till now she would understand him and, even better, would put him at ease.  _You’re being the coward again, ready to recoil. Only this time you’re afraid for her reaction, even though you know that is clear nonsense_. He understood the feeling and irritably dismissed it at the same time. _Not now._ He stared at her pleading face, disregarded the last residue of his revulsion for the whole outdoors affair and said, _’_ Alright, you win.’ He warded off her happy reaction, ‘for now. I’m not going to guarantee we won’t end up with the spiders in the cellar.’ His lopsided smile said otherwise. ‘But we still have to come up with an imaginary destination for our imaginary honeymoon to fool Varric.’

Now Bodahn, a little recovered from the strange happenings, put in a word. ‘What about Val Royeaux? I hear it is very popular among newly married couples.’

Fenris rapped his fingers on the desk close to Marian’s hip. ‘Indeed it is and therefore I fear that’s exactly the reason why the dwarf won’t believe it. Besides that, he knows damn well we’re not the Val Royeaux-kind of people. It would ruin the ruse beforehand.’ Inadvertently his gaze wandered from Marian to Tempest and back and a thought bubbled up. ‘What about Denerim?’

Hawke’s face lighted up. ‘Oh, that’s clever!’ she cried out overjoyed. ‘He will absolutely fall for that! What better place to go on a honeymoon than my home country.’ She added with a malicious smirk, ‘I would like to see them take ship to Denerim this time.’ But in the meantime Fenris knew her well enough to detect the sliver of melancholy behind her cheerful words. He was certain that if they really got married or were planning to, there would be a silent shedding of tears for the ones she had lost. And by now he comprehended so much more about such sentiments. Without thinking he took her hand and squeezed lightly.  She gave him a warm smile in return. The comprehension was mutual.

With a hardly noticeable sigh she turned to Bodahn who was not so much present as hovering around to see to her needs and wishes, perfectly playing the adopted role of the devoted servant. (Little he knew it ever so often got on Hawke’s nerves, though she never mentioned it because she appreciated he meant well). ‘Leave this document on my desk, will you?  Or perhaps you better nail it to the wall. I bet,’ (her face contorted at the word as if at something particularly evil smelling) ‘Varric will come running here the moment he finds out we’re gone and I want him to see it first thing he comes in.’ She smirked nastily. ‘It’s a pity I won’t be present to see his expression. And now we better go prepare for our camping expedition. I believe there’s a tent lying about somewhere in the attic, I have my bedroll and a spare one in my bedroom and we have to pack food and wine.’

Panicking Fenris grasped her wrist. ‘Don’t tell me you want to go to Sundermount at this very moment? It’s in the middle of the night!’

Hawke reassuringly patted his hand. ‘Of course not, love, but I intend to leave at daybreak and I don’t want to run around the place in the early morning, frantically searching for all the items we have to take with us.’ She grinned apologetically. ‘You know I’m not at my best at early mornings.’

He shot her a cheeky smile in return. ‘Really? I remember certain occasions –‘ He cut off his words abruptly, at once realizing Bodahn’s presence. Marian burst out laughing and made use of his embarrassment to drag him to the attic.

-

As Hawke already had predicted Varric came bustling into the estate the next day way before the bells of noon, though he tried to look as neutral as possible.

‘Hawke not here?’ he informed innocently while he passed Bodahn, who had opened the door. He ambled into the parlour with the demeanour of someone who accidently happened to pass by and decided to pay a surprise visit.

‘I’m afraid not,’ Bodahn answered rather stiffly. He had to admit he was a little nervous. It was all and well the mistress of the house had instructed him to beat the other dwarf around the bush and to fool him as much as he could, but it wasn’t as simple as it seemed. Of course the steward knew what was going on; for several weeks if not one and a half month by now – strange things had happened. After all, Messere Fenris had hidden here before and he had been at touch with all what had happened in the betting- and revenge department. He had laughed as much as his mistress and her lover when they had send the whole bunch off to Ostwick. But Varric had a way with people insofar he could pry their deepest secrets out of them.

And now it became even worse. He saw the Storyteller’s face fold into a nasty smile. ‘I know you know,’ he whispered.

Bodahn swallowed. ‘I know nothing,’ he wheezed; he had a hard time not to piss himself under the other dwarf’s scrutinizing look but he stood his ground. He had promised Messere Hawke he wouldn’t give in. He straightened his shoulders. ‘Messere Hawke and Messere Fenris have gone to Denerim,’ he declared proudly. He snatched the document from the desk and presented it to Varric. ‘As you can see,’ he added haughtily, ‘they got married and I happen to know they want to spend their honeymoon in Ferelden.’ He felt some kind of a hero after his declaration. It had been no small feat not to falter under Varric’s examining glare.

In the meantime Varric paid the nervous dwarf no heed whatsoever anymore. Suddenly there were more important issues to attend to. As an example he found in the margin of the marriage document Hawke’s viciously scribbled, ‘Hahaha, beat you to it, you stupid betting baboon!’

Varric glared at the writing as if it had bitten him. He looked up to Bodahn with an expression that lingered between hurt and smugness. ‘Right. I hope they know what friends do with the houses of newlywed,’ he mumbled.

Without further comment he marched out of the door. He had to find Rivaini. Between the annoyance and anger a twirl of mirth found its way. Varric smiled. Nastily.

Bodahn stared after him, not exactly knowing to be concerned or relieved.

He would soon find out.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of part two but, of course, the story will continue.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, for your comments and your kudos! They're very much appreciated.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first I wanted to add chapters in a new part but I've changed my mind. I think it would be too confusing, since chapter 7 was an open-ended one.  
> Oh well. We just soldier on!
> 
> Enjoy!

Part 11: ... and then, after a kiss and a lot of other events there was a big bang ... and a lot of dust.

-

Even while they were already walking the paths on Sundermount, Fenris still couldn’t see the alluring benefits of sauntering around the place without a pressing reason. Let alone he would enjoy it just like that. Not that it would have been better _with_ a pressing reason. He had been tense and all his senses had been screaming out there would be horrible dangers awaiting them around every next corner. But when those dangers showed a suspicious lack of popping up, he gradually allowed himself to relax. With clenched teeth he acknowledged that those dangers merely existed in his head. Speaking about relaxation ... Very soon, though, he had to admit, grudgingly mind you, that camping with Marian was indeed something entirely different from trying to keep out of the clutches of vile slavers while being on the run. And definitely something else than trying to get through the nights on tiresome missions. He didn’t precisely know whether the difference was made by the simple fact he was here with her alone without the vexing company of irksome mages, (especially one specific irksome mage), or irritating pirates and inquisitive dwarves, or if it was due to the fact he wasn’t at the very brink of being pounced upon by murderous bandits or, worse, determined slavers. But one way or another he was slowly starting to take pleasure in this enterprise. After giving it some thought he came to the conclusion it was indeed due to the fact he was here with just Marian. And it did help considerably they could surrender to certain outdoors – activities they wouldn’t dream of performing in the presence of a nosy or snappy audience.

They had managed to find the perfect camping spot. On a relatively flat surface (so they wouldn’t roll down a steep hill while sleeping, Marian had brightly explained while her eyes had made clear that sleeping as such wasn’t exactly what she had in mind), where they could put up the tent they had retrieved from the ancestral attic; an inviting spot close to a silent whispering clear brook. With enough room to build a cooking fire and enough meadow to spread out a blanket to lie upon. Or, in her giggling words, frolicking upon. He had given her a dark scowl but couldn’t resist the twinkle in her eyes. ‘I’ll show you what frolicking means,’ he had grumbled. And after that he had grabbed her around the waist, kissed her senseless and had made hot if not igniting love to her which had ended with a splash in the cold water. So much for the advantage of flat surfaces. _(‘Oh, I simply_ love _frolicking!’ she had exclaimed. and all he could do was laugh.)_

And enough open space to keep watch. Or at least to spot any attackers approaching soon enough to act adequately.

That last thought had entered his head after all the earlier wonderful activities, even the one including erecting an old almost decaying tent, while heatedly discussing how to do it properly. They had bickered while they in a threatening way waved tent poles and pegs around and struggled with the heavy canvas until he had deemed it better to make that heated love to her that had caused them to end in the cold stream. They had eventually succeeded in constructing the damned tent.

The angsty thought struck him in the velvet twilight filled with the arpeggios of competing blackbirds singing loudly their tiny lungs out to claim their territories. At the moment he was supposed to bask in pure bliss. Sitting near to that romantic campfire she so much treasured. With her glowing body nestled in his arms. Tense, to his own annoyance. And not relaxed at all.

He clenched his jaw. Ugh. Curse Isabela. Curse their friends. They undoubtedly didn’t know it, but the pirate’s antics and their unsavoury betting had brought about a feeling of infinite fear and besides that a strong will to protect. And this time not only to protect his own life but also that of Marian’s. He had been reluctant to tell her but one way or another she had guessed it – of course she had and thus he had cursed himself as well. He wanted to grant her this interlude of (he winced) frolicking. He even had been accommodating, going with that stupid expression. He had failed gloriously to resist her and his fierce will to resist this whole happening. He knew he had been surly, or at least looked it, although he hadn’t wanted to. She hadn’t mentioned it but the way she had looked at him, and even more the husky tone of her voice that had told him, ‘Just enjoy yourself, my love, you deserve it,’ had spoken volumes. But even before he could have uttered some denial or even could have felt guilty, she had flashed that brilliant smile that had not even brooked any peremptory but, even more important, had put him at ease. Again. For the umpteenth time. No guilt. He smiled.

Even out in the open she managed to make him feel at ease. It was more than remarkable. He leant back and took her with him in his arms. ‘I love you,’ he murmured lazily but nevertheless wholeheartedly.

He felt her sweet soft smile upon his naked chest. ‘I know. And I love you back.’ And he believed her. That was worth all the struggles. All of them.

- 

Varric stood tapping his foot in a way that implied his patience was stretching dangerously thin, if not wearing completely out. He had been leaning casually against the wall of the mansion for a while, his arms nonchalantly folded in a steadfast demeanour, watching Isabela’s efforts to break the new lock with all the confidence in the world she would succeed in no time at all. But no time at all had rapidly turned into a boring quarter of an hour and was now annoyingly slow nearing an unbearable long time, whereas the efforts had become serious exertions.

‘I thought you liked a challenge,’ he commented prickly, not being able to restrain his aggravation any more.

The pirate looked up at him with a dark scowl. ‘And I do,’ she retorted tetchily, ‘and don’t you think that I, as much as you, want to turn this bloody house into a series of traps and other nuisances? To give them a warm welcome home when they return?’

She cursed out loud when another lockpick broke with a dry metallic pang. She stood up determinedly. ‘It just turns out they apparently hired the best locksmith in this whole damned city. With no doubt you must know him; it has to be a dwarf.’ She glared menacingly at him. ‘No other race is capable of making unbreakable locks. That was my last one by the way. So either you provide me with a new set or you drag that blasted dwarf right here to this blasted door and force him to demolish his own work.’ This time her glare was outright threatening. ‘And, if I have to be honest, buckets of whitewash hovering over doors standing ajar don’t count as a trap.’

Varric fluttered his hands apologetically. ‘I know, I know. Worst idea ever. I just got taken away. Don’t forget we have plenty of time to come up with the good stuff. We just have to find a way to get into this mansion to take in the scenery, walk around the place, measure things up, get fabulous ideas just by looking around –‘

‘Yes, exactly. We just have to _get into_ the mansion,’ mocked Isabela. ‘That means we only have to conquer an unconquerable door. Because, don’t forget, they not only replaced the lock to give every bastard who gives it a try a hard time to bash through this fucking door, but we also tried, I hope you remember this particular action,’ (this was followed by another venomous glare), ‘to smash the windows and as you have noticed the scallywags made those unbreakable too in some eerie way. I mean, who comes up with the idea of ordering reinforced glass?’

‘Someone who has experienced a certain pirate steeling into their property and is afraid she will be followed by an army of slavers,’ Varric mumbled. All the while a vague idea was taking form in his mind.

‘And not long ago you could simply enter through the holes in the roof but I have the creepy feeling they not only mended that very roof but have used steel slabs to keep intruders out. I wouldn’t put it past them to have used enchanted slabs, even though the irresistible appetizing elf detests magic. But for her sake he would do anything. They’re just not playing fair! I mean –‘

But Varric wasn’t listening to her complaints any longer. The vague idea had blossomed and borne fruit. He beamed at Isabela. ‘Who needs lockpicks when you have a Daisy?’

The greased axes of Isabela’s train of thought collided with a nasty heap of mutinying sand and came to a squeaking halt.

‘What?’

He took her reluctant arm and started to drag her along. ‘Let’s go collect our favourite Dalish elf.’

Normally Isabela’s antennas were tuned to sex. This very moment they were tuned to disaster. Alas her respond, again, came no further than a lame “what?”

-

It took a while before the door opened and they came eye to eye with a flushed and dishevelled Merrill. Her hair was in disarray and she was clad in a nightshift she apparently had hastily dragged over her head, since she wore it not only inside out but also the wrong way round.

‘You were still sleeping?’ Varric exclaimed incredulously, looking her upside down with wide eyes. ‘At this time of the day?’ He had never pictured Merrill as a sleep in kind of person. Insofar he had pictured anything at all about her morning rituals, it was something about sitting on the floor with a cup of tea, said tea getting cold while the piece of crockery, which was holding the cooling liquid, was hovering between her hand and her mouth and in the meantime her staring at that damned mirror of hers.

Nervously the small elf peeked back over her shoulder. ‘Not exactly sleeping,’ she muttered, blushing some more, ‘uh, no, not sleeping.’ She tried to smile and it looked rather sheepishly.

Normally Varric would have noticed the quite obvious signs within a heartbeat but right now he was too wound up to notice anything at all. The unyielding door and the remarks Isabela had made about the presumably with magic drenched roof occupied most of the thinking part of his brain. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he thus said impatiently, ‘just get dressed. We need your help. Urgently.’

In the meantime Isabela was having a very hard time not to nudge the dwarf in the ribs – viciously – or hug the elf as some kind of encouragement (go girl!), while preventing she’d burst into a hysterical fit of laughter. This also managed to miss Varric’s awareness.

‘Really? My help? Of course. But, er, I, er, I really –‘ Merrill tried helplessly. ‘My help?’ she ended weakly. Her eyes fluttered to Isabela. But even had the pirate wanted to be some kind of assist, Varric beat her on the spot. Even more bluntly than before.

‘Oh for the Maker’s sake, Daisy,’ the dwarf interrupted her awkward stammering, ‘can’t you just leave your demanding mirror alone for a couple of hours? I’m sure the blasted thing won’t wander off on its own account.’

‘Yes, I mean no, er – oh, all right.’ The Dalish elf sagged. (Isabela was pretty certain the mirror had nothing to do with the elf’s stuttering and blushing appearance). ‘Just give me a minute.’ And she disappeared into her bedroom. There was a muffled sound of muted voices. Voic _es_ , with the emphasis on more than one. The dwarf frowned and replayed the scene that had occurred not a minute before in his head. Finally comprehension dawned and his jaw almost dropped through the floor.

‘I hope you understand we just intruded on someone’s private time,’ Isabela remarked dryly. She looked sideways at the dwarf and saw his flustered expression. She grinned wickedly. ‘Someone’s _very_ private time,’ she underlined with malicious glee and added with even more nastiness, ‘Tsk, Varric, that you, of all people, as the notorious Storyteller no less, could not catch it. Shocking!’

Varric, to his dread, as good as turned crimson and grumbled a string of dwarven curses under his breath. But, being Varric, he put himself together at the same time. If the Guild Master had not been able to break him, then certainly a pirate queen or Dalish elf would not succeed. He looked up at Isabela. ‘At least now I understand what kind of book Hawke and Fenris have gifted her with,’ he said while the merriment in his eyes returned, ‘and apparently it was intriguing enough to let Daisy put the, uh, theory into practise.’

‘I would very much like to borrow that book,’ Isabela nodded in agreement.

_Steal it, more like,_ Varric thought.

Merrill came stumbling out off her bedroom, even more flushed than before, and immediately tripped over the knob of her staff she held upside-down. Behind her sounded the low reverberation of soft amused laughter. But at least she was decently dressed.

‘Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?’ the pirate asked eagerly. But Varric took the elf by the arm and started to drag her out of the hovel into Lowtown. ‘Not now, Rivaini, I’m sure there will be plenty of time for that later. Look, Daisy, sweetheart, what we want you to do is this.’ He caught her absent look. ‘Are you paying attention?’

If it hadn’t been for Varric, the Dalish elf had blundered into a crate standing somewhere halfway the Alienage, inconveniently right in their line of walking, instead of only graze the obstacle. ‘I, yes, of course,’ she mumbled. She didn’t even rub her shin. She only frowned absentmindedly. But with the colliding something sprang into life. Something Varric overlooked.

Gently the dwarf tapped her on the arm. ‘Listen Daisy,’ he began to explain while he guided her carefully through the city, ‘I know _you_ know some fabulous magical trick.’

‘Yes, Varric,’ Merrill said patiently, ‘I know many.’ But behind the patience Varric discerned a sliver of irritation. He shot to attention. Merrill never sounded irritated. This bode nothing well. In hindsight he already reacted too late, especially because he didn’t react at all, that is, not adequately. But who had been able to foresee...

‘This one comes with launching lots of rocks.’ His voice croaked a little. Merrill’s appearance, her – irritated – appearance put him off balance. For some reason she, at this moment, didn’t look like his sweet Daisy.

‘Stonefist,’ Merrill understood. Her face resembled the rock he had referred to. Or that stonefist she mentioned. Varric swallowed. And swallowed his uneasiness away. Again. And too soon.

‘Indeed.’ The dwarf was relieved she had at least a part of her concentration back, as far as Merrill and concentration went together in the first place. In the meantime they had reached Fenris’s mansion and the dwarf indicated the stubborn lock while still looking her up and down in a slightly concerned way. Steady rock. Stone. He didn’t’ feel comfortable but willed the uncanny feeling away. This was the lovable Dalish elf. What could go wrong? He bravely soldiered on. ‘See that? That’s a lockpick-eater but it’s vital we open the door. So, what I want you to do is –‘

‘I get it.’ By now irritation had without doubt seriously kicked in. ‘And this couldn’t have waited till later?’

Varric cringed.

‘Ooh! Was he that good?!’ Isabela cooed excitedly _._

_Stupid woman, shut up!_

Varric cringed some more. He felt a blasting disaster was about to happen. Not seconds later he would be put in the right about at least the blast. He tried to stop Merrill but was stopped dead himself by her next remark.

‘Who said he was a he?’

This was so unexpected, not the information as such but more the soft, though vicious, if not sniping tone in which the words were uttered, that both Varric and Isabela stared open-mouthed at the small elf. It was like seeing a sheep rebel and suddenly snap at the heels of the sheepdog. They had never seen her looking like – _this_.

Varric cleared his throat. Delicately. ‘Right. I suppose it _could_ have waited. But since we’re here anyway, perhaps you could shoot the annoying piece of metal out off the bloody door..?’

Without an answer Merrill aimed her staff at the lock. Well, mostly the lock. Or rather far more than the lock. Even if he had wanted to, Varric hadn’t been able to hold her back. Afterwards he blamed himself, thought he never would admit it.

-

After the deafening rumbling had ceased somewhat, Varric said, ‘O-kay. Daisy, please do clarify what went wrong.’ His voice sounded muffled through the clouds of dust and the dull thumps of falling lumps of masonry, counterpointed by the ticking of a plaster shower.

Horrified Merrill stared at the chaos she had created. Apparently she had descended from the heights of fury, or at least irritation, to fall into the pit of despair with the speed of light. She put a fist in her mouth and whimpered around the knuckles. ‘I’m so sorry!’ she squeaked. It seemed the sheep all at once comprehended why it shouldn’t act like a bull.

‘You did that on purpose, didn’t you,’ Isabela said, not without appreciation. She picked a piece of plaster out off her hair.

‘I didn’t, I swear I didn’t!’ Merrill wailed. ‘I don’t understand what happened! I didn’t mean this to happen! I don’t know my own strength!’

‘That’s what good sex does for you,’ the pirate queen said with a broad knowing grin.

‘Fenris will be so angry!’ Merrill whinged. ‘He will be soooo mad!’ Her desperate moan made even Isabela wince. ‘I ruined his house! Oh Creators, what will he do?!’

Varric tried to brush off the worst of the dust. It made him look like a snowman that had gone chimney sweeping. Or like a desperate zebra, fully aware of its inexorable fate. ‘He will go spare,’ he predicted darkly, ‘he will totally go spare. And he will not only rip our hearts out, but every other organ as well.’

‘You think so? He also has good sex nowadays,’ Isabela optimistically put forward, ‘he might be in a forgiving mood. He might even see the humour of it all.’ The dust began to settle and she took in the damage. The whole entrance had been blown away, as well as half of the parlour. At the very moment a considerable section of the ceiling gave in and fell with a dramatic crash on what was left of the floor.

Her mouth twitched but never turned into a smile. ‘Nope. He will totally go spare.’

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Merrill feels guilty but Aveline doesn't buy it... In the meantime Hawke and Fenris are having the time of their life...
> 
> Enjoy!

Part 12: It started with a kiss, it led to a big bang and surprisingly life still goes on...

-

Aveline almost stumbled while she was running down the ridiculous long stairway that was the Viscounts Way. She had been sitting behind her desk, dealing with the maddening amount of paper that came with the office of Captain of the Guard, when a low rumbling sound had got through to her. She probably wouldn’t have heard it, had not the windows been opened to let in the hot summer breeze to warm the room that even in this season remained chilly. And even though she had noticed something, she had paid it little to none attention, too busy with the tedious mind-numbing task as she was. She had raised her brow in wonderment for a short second but had turned to her boring chore almost immediately. It took the rushing in of one of her guardsmen to wake her fear. Not just _one_ of her guardsmen, she noticed not a heartbeat later. A too quick heartbeat. A skipping one, to be frank.

‘Captain!’ Donnic panted, out of breath. ‘I think you have to see this!’

Aveline had jumped up straight away. She might carry a torch for him, she knew guardsman Donnic was always serious when it came down to acknowledging dangers and managing them without even as much as twitching a brow. When he sounded the alarm, the alarm without doubt sounded on its turn danger. Or amok. Or pandemonium. That was one of the reasons she carried that torch for him. Or better some kind of bonfire. That, and the way he sometimes looked at her. She especially remembered that breathtaking and at the same time enticing look after they had dragged him out of that nasty trap the former Captain had set for him. And it hadn’t ended with that; those looks had kept coming. Mostly veiled and quickly turned away, but frequently. When he looked at her in that special way it made her feel giddy and young and foolish and even – aroused. She almost blushed at the thought.

But that was not the reason she almost stumbled. It was the message he had brought her and made her with more speed than was possibly wise hasten to the scene of the crime. A mansion blown to pieces. Noble neighbours concerned. _Was this a Qunari attack?_ The nobility already were screaming their concern out. She imagined how the headlines of the Kirkwall Town Crier would boom over the squares and through the streets. “The horny beasts are on to us! They used gaatlok!!”

And of course she knew that wasn’t the case.

_I knew it I knew it I bloody knew it, fuck fuck fuck… I knew it would end with a blast. You horrible dwarf with your horrible bets!_

‘Keep the neighbours at bay,’ she barked at Donnic who heroically not only had underwent her outburst but even more admirably had put up with her demonic speed and thus still was at her side. _Remind me to buy him a drink_ she thought when she saw him pushing the obtrusive nobles out of the way. She stared two seconds too long. _Remind me to talk to Hawke about that drink and how to offer it to him._

 Her sudden attack of insecurity got overruled by the more than sufficient feelings of all-consuming anger when she took in the scene. One demolished mansion. One nonchalant dwarf. One nonchalant _looking_ dwarf, she corrected herself and smiled thinly. One pirate whore trying to keep up appearances. Which was, of course, more or less the same as the look of that maddening nonchalant dwarf. One small crouching elf making a serious effort to keep out of her sight. She took pity on her. She was certain Merrill had nothing to do with this mess. She might even have caused it, literally, but she never could be the mastermind. Her attention turned back to the dwarf and the human. She would fucking well let them know how angry she was right now. Because she had figured it out.

‘Have you gone completely out of your bloody minds?’ she thus roared. Her eyes were even more ablaze than she realised.

‘Yes, yes, Big Girl, we already established Fenris will go spare.’ Isabela tried to sound bored but in truth she felt very uneasy; she’d never seen Aveline like this. It made her insecure and twitchy, although she would never show such flaws openly.

‘Go spare?’ Aveline screamed in return, all her tension exploding at once. ‘Go _spare_?? You’d better get down on your knees and pray to all the gods you know he will only _go spare_! He’ll go completely berserk and that will be mildly put! He’ll rip you apart and I won’t stand in his way!’ She almost literally spat fire.

‘Please Aveline,’ Merrill spluttered devastated, ‘don’t yell at them, it was all my fault ...’

‘Oh no, Merrill, I don’t buy that crap, you’re not to blame. Those two have dragged you into this mess.’ She gave the wrongdoers her best ferocious scowl. On their turn said wrongdoers tried to keep up a cool attitude but failed gloriously. In fact, they both crumbled under her flaming gaze.

Varric coughed awkwardly. Cement and plaster crunched between his teeth and his throat felt like sandpaper. He desperately sought for something calming or witty to say but found nothing. He came not further than a lame, ‘So, what happens now?’ He felt much shorter by now than even a dwarf ought to feel.

Before she could answer, a grating highly irritated voice sounded behind her back and she turned to glare at the intruder. Her seething eyes met one of the nobles that surveyed the drama. She recognized him as Antoine de Calignac; he had attended the appalling party the Viscount had thrown to grant her the honour she never deserved. He had spoken with awful disdain about the elven servants, as if they were but highly trained but mindless domestic animals. It had made her feel sick, even more so than Lord Armanti’s hungry staring eyes already had accomplished, and at this moment he did nothing to remedy her earlier bad impression.

‘It’s about time you showed up, guardswoman,’ he barked. ‘Now you can witness with your own eyes what the consequences are of allowing a knife-ear to stay in Hightown. I demand you do something about it this very minute!’

Aveline was absolutely not in the mood. She narrowed her eyes. ‘ _Knife-ear_?’ She could have frozen water with her voice. ‘You _demand_??’

Her murderous look completely missed de Calignac’s righteous anger. He poked with a chubby but perfectly groomed finger in her chest. ‘Yes, I _demand_ you immediately remove the offending _knife-ear_ out of our neighbourhood, _guardswoman,’_ he hissed. That was a grave mistake. Or rather three grave mistakes in a row.

Aveline pulled herself up to full height, which was quite an impressive sight to behold, and in her eyes brewed a kind of vicious fury that had better men than de Calignac made think twice. Slowly he removed his finger and took a cautious step back, suddenly aware of her deadly glare. ‘The title is Guard _Captain_ , as you well know,’ she said in a clipped but dark tone. Normally she wouldn’t throw her weight about like that but the pompous squirt made her skin crawl. She let her voice drop another notch to a soft but threatening tone. ‘You address me one more time like this, you _touch_ me one more time and you are under arrest for assaulting an officer of the law. Do you understand.’

‘What?!’ De Calignac’s voice caught with sheer fury and perplexity. ‘You have absolutely no right-‘

‘Do. You. Understand.’ Aveline repeated with emphasis. Her look could have bent steel. The nobleman stumbled back another pace. He had understood her meaning or at least the danger he was in, which didn’t mean he could grasp it. ‘Good. Donnic, clear the area.’

‘But –‘ spluttered de Calignac who indeed was thick-sculled but, to be honest, right now simply protested out of habit. He was not used to people contradicting him and it took him some time to put his mind around it.

‘Shut up,’ snarled Aveline, stunning him some more, ‘before I lose my patience and change my mind and arrest you as yet.’ The nobleman’s mouth opened and shut and opened again, like a fish trying to manage the art of breathing in one go. ‘One more thing,’ she cut him short  beforehand, ‘if you use the appalling expression “knife-ear” once again I will drag you to the Keep’s dungeon without a flinch and you better believe I will find some very solid reasons to take you into custody.’

This was too much. The Calignac turned on his heels and tramped back to his own mansion, seething inside and brooding on repercussions.

‘Very well done,’ Varric began to praise Aveline but got interrupted before he could go on.

‘I don’t want to hear a word from you!’ she sneered at him. ‘You all come with me to the Keep. There I can decide what to do with you and about this,' she waved her arm at the devastation, ‘nasty situation.’

 -

Blissfully oblivious of all the commotion back in Kirkwall, Hawke was wrapped up in heavenly contentment. She was lying naked on her stomach on the blanket that was spread out on the bank of the small rippling stream. Low bushes and high rustling trees surrounded the spot; in the branches blackbirds scattered their delicate tremolos around and filled the air with a pleasant sound. A low splashing waterfall murmured playfully nearby, greatly attributing to the idyllic beauty of the scenery. Numerous water drops caught the light of the sun and turned it into all the colours of the rainbow, matching the ones of the summer flowers that dotted the meadow. Not that Marian saw any of it; she had her eyes closed and rested her head on her underarms. Fenris, as naked as she was, was lying on his side next to her, propped up on an elbow, and his index finger drew soft lines on the skin of her back.

‘If I connect the small birthmarks on your back I can make a piece of art,’ he hummed with half lid eyes, concentrating on the patterns that took form in his mind and completely taken captive by his own idea. He had finally left all of his anxiety behind and instead had started to enjoy this enterprise enormously.

Marian chortled. ‘And what would it look like, that artwork of yours?’

‘I don’t know yet. I can’t decide whether I should picture the tree of life or one of the fairytale animals you like so much or perhaps a startling constellation.’ He cocked his head, trying to visualize the design that would most suit her breathtaking personality and at the same time express his love for her.

‘Go with your portrait,’ Marian suggested, ‘I can live with your image on my back. In fact, the only thing against it I can think of is that I have to use two mirrors to admire it.’

Fenris’s sudden merry laugh mingled with the sounds of the nature surrounding them. He bowed to kiss the crook of her shoulder. ‘I will gladly buy you two mirrors, if only to let you admire your own behind.’

As always he managed to astound her; this time he almost brought her to tears. ‘Please make love to me,’ she pleaded in a whisper. Her longing for him went far beyond his astonishing white-haired and olive-tanned gorgeousness, accentuated by that perfect chiselled face and that body that seemed to be created by an extremely talented sculpture. It went even beyond that hypnotizing dark coloured voice that could melt her into a helpless puddle with one word, didn’t matter what word. Yes, of course his more than appetising looks had first caught her attention but what had been harboured and concealed on his inside, _that_ had made her irrevocable fall in love with him.

‘Again?’

‘Again and again and forever and always.’

His soft voice wafted over her skin. ‘Be careful with what you ask for.’

‘I know exactly what I ask for. I’ve experienced it often enough to know how much I love it.’

Next she felt the tip of his tongue caressing her skin, sensually following the path of his finger. ‘You taste like sunshine,’ he murmured, ‘like sunshine and happiness.’

She let out a groan of pleasure. ‘I _feel_ like sunshine and happiness. And I understand the work of art on my back is going to be a water-colour..?’ There was a short pause in his ministrations, followed by an amused chuckle. ‘No! Don’t stop!’ she cried out alarmed, suddenly afraid he would teasingly drag her with him into the cold waters of the stream. It wouldn’t be the first time.

‘I don’t intend to.’ He kissed her again and then his hand slipped between her legs while his tongue made little moist circles on her behind.

Hawke couldn’t remember how many times they had made love already but every time Fenris touched her in his own special way, the way that said “I love you” just by the use of his fingertips, she felt the burn of desire once more. And when his voice – oh, that voice! – joined that magical touch, her brain pivoted in her head and her emotions rocketed shy high. There was no room left for logical thoughts. She had had lovers before, not the battalion that apparently had marched through the aristocratic fantasies, but enough to appreciate this elf made her feel special. And not only special as in she was the only really interesting and beautiful woman in the world, but special like he was an angel who deigned her worthy to carry her in his inviting wings while they both spiralled to a zenith of fulfilment. Every time again it caught her by surprise and every time again she got swept away, no matter how often it happened.

He placed warm kisses on the small of her back while his fingers purposefully wandered over her slick folds, wet and swollen with anticipation and want, to her small nub that waited with excited eagerness for his attention. She pushed her face into the blanket and croaked his name while the first waves leading to an overpowering height began to build. She tried to turn but he prevented the motion by circling his arm around her hips. He easily lifted her until she rested on her hands and knees. Tormentingly slow he moved over her body, giving her the wonderful sensation of his naked skin upon hers, until his mouth reached her ear. His breath whirling around the shell and his teeth nibbling the lobe was the last push she needed to get lost into the swirl of a mighty orgasm. In the midst of her peak he entered her, bringing her even higher.

He never took on a fast pace but with infinite tenderness pushed into her and pulled out again, and again and again, till he brought them both to that startling summit, carried on his alluring, strong and loving angel wings.

They sank on the blanket, holding each other, listening to the mumbling brook, the rustling leaves and the singing birds. ‘I never thought it was possible to feel so much for someone,’ Marian said when she was finally able to speak again, ‘but here I am, loving you like, like –‘ She sighed. ‘I don’t know like what, frankly.’ She smiled apologetically against his chest. ‘Like I’m addicted to you, to steal your own words, if you don’t mind.’

He kissed her brow. ‘I don’t mind at all.’

-

Not moments later they got ripped out of their heavenly delight by the sound of frantic barking.

‘What the,’ Hawke began but before she could finish the sentence Tempest made his boisterous entrance by rushing into the scene, all pounding paws, wagging tail and yapping muzzle. In his enthusiastic haste he overshot the small meadow and ended in the shabbily raised tent that abruptly collapsed under his weight. When they had managed to free him out of the rags of the torn canvas and the ruins of broken poles, Fenris discovered the rolled up piece of paper that was attached to his collar. He unfolded it while Marian tried to calm the excited hound down, and read out loud: “ _Please come home at once. Something has happened. I badly need your presence and assistance._ ” He looked up, frowning. ‘Signed Aveline.’

They stared at each other for a heartbeat. ‘Varric,’ they simultaneously cried out with exasperation. They got dressed in no time, even though Tempest did his utter best to delay them by darting in and out of the water and running around them while splattering cold drops around. Despite his acts of sabotage they raced back to the city not minutes later, leaving the tent and picnic items for what it was. They could pick them up at a more convenient time.

‘What the hell could that stupid bastard have done this time,’ Hawke groused, partly annoyed and partly sick with worry. If Aveline had thought it necessary to interrogate Bodahn about the destination of their so called honeymoon and wring the truth out of him, it could be nothing good. Her steward would not so easily divulge a secret he had sworn to keep, not if some disaster had occurred.

‘I suppose we will find out soon enough,’ Fenris replied darkly.

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tempest will make a quite important discovery...
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

Part 13: We’re still following the trail of that heated kiss and all the collateral damage. But there will be an unexpected surprise at the end. And as surprises go, it will be a double edged very sharp sword.

-

Aveline had been pacing her office for the best part of the afternoon. She got consumed with anxiety, restlessly awaiting the arrival of one Tevinter elf. A pressing question kept hovering in her mind: how would Fenris take the severe damage to his mansion? She reprimanded herself because it was a stupid question, a self-answering one at that. She knew bloody well how he would take it: very badly. He presumably would demolish the rest of the premises and pull down the adjacent residences in one fuming go. And what the hell kept him this long?! She almost jumped when Donnic entered with nothing more confronting than a soothing cup of tea.

‘I thought you would need this, Captain,’ he said, ruefully when he noticed her flustered expression.

She forced herself to a reassuring smile although she was painfully aware of her het up state of mind, not to mention her reddened face. Due to both said state and his sudden appearance. ‘Indeed I do, Guardsman, thank you.’ She had not the least hope he would buy her attempt at being the calm and composed leader of the Guard but she could always try to fool herself.

Carefully Donnic placed the cup on the desk. He straightened his shoulders before he ventured, ‘I don’t think Fenris will react too strongly, Captain. I consider him a well-thinking person. And he certainly won’t take you responsible for what happened.’

Aveline took a deep breath. ‘Won’t he? I wonder. I mean, I was one of the participants ...’ Her voice drifted off. Donnic knew nothing about that disgraceful enterprise. She hoped.

‘Well...’ Delicately Donnic cleared his throat. ‘I’m certain he won’t hold it against you.’

Because, naturally, her second in command knew about the whole shameful business. Damn. Aveline’s already flushed face became a shade of crimson. Hastily she changed the subject. ‘It’s not just Fenris. I’m afraid the nobles will not leave it just like that.’

Donnic grabbed the back of the chair standing in front of the desk, collecting courage. ‘Yes, well, about that,’ he started a bit nervous, ‘I paid de Calignac a little visit. You know, to inform about his, uh, health.’

Aveline cocked a brow. ‘His health?’ she echoed nonplussed.

The Guardsman coughed awkwardly. ‘Mainly about his health. As it happens, I may have inquired also about his investments in the slave trade.’

Aveline’s expression became a seething question mark within a heartbeat. ‘His _what_?? Why didn’t I know about this?!’

Donnic heaved his hands in a pacifying gesture. ‘I only just found out myself. I was looking for something incriminating to put against him, to prevent he would run to the Viscount with his complaint about Fenris.’

‘You found out very fast,’ Aveline grumbled, all her instincts awake and roaring and making amok. She had a hard time to check her emotions. All of them.

Donnic tried his most charming and overwhelming smile, not half realizing how smashing that smile exactly hit her already overheated brain and hormones. ‘I have to confess I asked Varric about it. I already suspected the man of something fishy and I assumed Varric would know – something. I mean, something to, er, silence de Calignac. You must agree the dwarf seems to know everything.’

Grudgingly Aveline silently admitted she did agree.

In the meantime Donnic ploughed bravely on. ‘He simply wrote a note of recommendation and directed me to the Merchants Guild, saying, and I quote, “the bloody bastards know more than is good for their immortal souls and besides that they owe me one.”’ He shot her a lopsided discomfited grin and again heroically soldiered on, regardless the punishment that could linger around the corner. ‘He was right. It took me less than an hour to obtain the information I needed.’ He fell silent and waited for the outburst. When that didn’t come he added meekly, ‘I hope you’re not angry with me?’

But his Captain was still recovering from the impact of that smile; she was far too shaky to get annoyed with something as futile as her lieutenant conferring behind her back with some terrible dwarf or a whole cartload of the short buggers. ‘Angry? Why would I be angry with you?’ she managed with some effort. ‘You just saved me from a nasty noble who could have become an awful pain in the ass! Now I have only one problem left to sort out.’ She tried to reciprocate Donnic’s hesitant smile and realized at the same moment she must look like a psychopathic idiot. Or a baboon in love. She cleared her throat. ‘We can deal with that noble scum later because not one chance in the world I will let him carry on with his unsavoury affairs. But first things first.’ She tilted her head and in a flurry of courage she blurted, ‘You know what, forget about the tea. Sit down and share a glass of brandy with me. Helps better against the nerves anyway.’

Donnic accepted the glass, keeping in mind what Varric had told him about Aveline, or more specific: about her apparent feelings for him. He had to find a way to let her know he was interested, more than interested in fact, and according to Varric he shouldn’t be too subtle. But barging in like a stampeding bronto and conquering her heart (that already had been conquered if he was to believe the dwarf) like a mindless ape pursuing his raw instincts, didn’t seem like the right method. Even though the dwarf had claimed he would never get the message home in any other way.

‘Although, on the other hand,’ Varric had suggested after some contemplation, ‘you can always fire some poetic love gibberish at her. Despite she claims to despise everything about Orlais, she’s very fond of that part of Orlesian frivolity.’

Writing or reciting poems seemed in Donnic’s eyes an even worse idea than acting like a bronto, mainly because his grasp of something remotely poetic went no further than the lullabies his mother used to sing to him. And putting Aveline to sleep while he was making an attempt at accomplishing, well, more or less the opposite was rather silly.

But, he thought a bit drowsily, sharing a drink was at least a good start.

-

Varric, in the meantime, was bored to shreds. He and Isabela and Merrill weren’t exactly imprisoned but Aveline had made it very clear she would flay the pirate and him alive if they’d had the nerve to leave the Barracks.

‘Keep in mind I’m doing you a favour,’ the Guard-Captain had growled. ‘By keeping you in here I’m protecting you from Fenris. I’m quite positive he will do the flaying for me if he gets the chance. And the first thing he will do is running to the Hanged Man to get your hides.’

‘A nice ship would have done the trick,’ Isabela had mumbled but she had resigned to her fate. A fate that had become less bleak after Donnic had brought them a bottle of rum.

Varric appreciated they were still slightly off balance due to the blast they had caused. Frankly, he personally felt off balance because of everything that had happened of late, starting with that completely unexpected astonishing kiss they had witnessed. And ending with not only that blast but, to be honest, with those unsettling feelings of guilt he had been forced to cope with. He could still feel the eyes of Hawke drilling holes in his confidence. And even now he knew she had been playing a role, the role of her life as a matter of fact, and yes he _had_ completely fallen for it, he thus knew _he_ had been playing with fire.

He should have known Fenris was an outburst waiting to happen and the brittle love between his heroine and her lover could have busted just like that. Because they both were so vulnerable. And he had made it even worse with the bet he had suggested. The bursting into his suite had made him saw clearly he had been toying with fate. Even worse, with the fate of two other persons.

Knowing Fenris, all right, the part of Fenris he was familiar with, that specific part had given him the idea the elf was some kind of dark prince trying to conquer the princes of light – he interrupted his own thoughts at this moment. _What the hell have I been thinking??_ This was not one of his stories, not even one of the romances like that terrible Swords and Shields that was starting to get away with him. He shuddered inwardly. Daisy had been right all along. No-one knew Fenris. Except Hawke probably.

Running around Kirkwall, the Wounded Coast and Sundermount, while killing cutthroats, blood mages, demons, Qunari and even dragons, paled into insignificance compared to what they had done and what had been done to them over the past weeks. He knew he should use the time to let it all sink in but instead he was walking back and forth like a caged animal. Just the idea of being pent up made him _feel_ like being pent up and if there was one thing a Tethras couldn’t stand was being _pent up_. About that issue they felt even more strongly than pirates. He and Bertrand had fled Orzammar for a reason. Admittedly there had been a father making a wrong bet, or rather betting with prior knowledge which was worse, but the main reason had been he and his brother were driven completely nuts by the prison Orzammar in fact represented. He plopped down on a bench and cursed under his breath.

‘Oh come on, Varric,’ Isabela exclaimed, waving the bottle of rum around, ‘it’s not all that bad. Wipe that frown off your face; you’re worrying Bianca. And I’m positive it’s bad for your chest hair. Why don’t you join us? Our little kitten has some immensely interesting stories to share.’

Next to her Merrill giggled girlishly and Varric realized she had drunk more than a mouthful of rum. Hence undoubtedly also her unnatural rosy cheeks. Thankfully there was little left of the pale, miserable trembling small heap of elf they had taken with them to the Keep. ‘You don’t know the half of it,’ she chirped happily.

‘Hail to the glorious effects of alcohol,’ Varric thought. And thus he stood and snatched the bottle out of Isabela’s hands, giving the effects a try himself. He indeed did feel somewhat better after a large swill. And besides that, teasing the Dalish elf was a pleasurable pastime. He plastered a smile on his face. ‘I’m glad to hear, Daisy. I imagine the book Hawke and Fenris gave you must have been very informative ..?’

As expected Merrill almost choked on her next fit of giggles. ‘You don’t know the half of it,’ she said again. She put a hand to her mouth and whispered conspiratorially, ‘You know, she was actually a he all along.’

With a sigh of contentment Varric sank in the seat next to her. Even in the midst of misery there always shone a small but bright light.

-

Wordlessly Fenris stood staring at what was left of his home, his face an unreadable stone mask. His whole body stayed motionless, even his hands dangled along his thighs without as much as a tiny jolt. No clenching of fists, not the smallest of ripples of his muscles betraying his rage, not a twitch of lashes or a move of eyes; he didn’t even seem to breathe. It was uncanny.

Aveline grew nervous; she’d rather he’d explode in blue rage. She didn’t know what was going on behind that stoic bearing but feared the elf would go on a killing rampage once the outward composure would wear off. And she was standing dreadfully close by, close enough to become his first victim. She had with all the calmness she could muster explained what had transpired. And he hadn’t reacted at all. That is to say, not in the way she had expected.

On the other hand, Hawke was very busy venting her anger. That, at least, was recognisable and almost comforting.

The two lovers had at last shown up in the Keep, still accompanied by an enormously enthusiastic Tempest. Even now the war hound was an example of innocent happiness, darting cheerfully through the debris.

Finally Fenris gave some comment. ‘You can say the _present_ we bestowed on the Dalish witch has backfired. Almost literally.’ He sounded strained but not like he was going to detonate in the near future.

Then again, Hawke was almost igniting with pure fury. ‘We will punish them for this! I promise you I will find some way to take revenge! We will –‘

In an unnoticeable fast motion Fenris grabbed her wrist. ‘No.’

She tried to wriggle free. ‘What “no”? They have to pay!’ she cried out vehemently.

Fenris grimaced grimly. ‘Oh, they will pay, don’t you worry, but by doing something – constructive this time.’ He puffed out the air he had been holding in. ‘They will rebuild what they have demolished. Stone by stone. But no revenge. This has gone too far already. And what kind of revenge did you have in mind anyway? Blowing up the Hanged Man? No Marian, I don’t want this. The game we played has turned into a fight and when we take it any further it will going to be outright war. It stops here.’

Reluctantly Hawke had to admit he was right. It _had_ gone too far. Of course, Varric never had wanted this disaster but it just had happened because one thing had led to another. And from here it could only get worse if they kept going on. She sighed. ‘You’re right. It has to stop. Just grant me the pleasure of looking at Varric and Isabela toiling in sweat while rebuilding your mansion, preferably with some cold white wine close at hand.’

Fenris let out a sardonic laugh. ‘I will join you. With pleasure, I might add.’

Aveline could hardly believe her ears. Her admiration for the elf grew. Even in her highest hopes she had not foreseen this reaction but she was more than grateful for it.

‘Good! I’m already looking forward to it,’ Marian smiled. And then frowned irritated. ‘Tempest! Get back here, you insufferable scallywag!’ But as usual her dog didn’t listen and instead kept dashing around, scattering rubbish and dust around in his wild-goose chase.

When Hawke stepped inside, which was a very relative concept in the present circumstances, to remove Tempest her eye fell on something metallic lying in the rubble. She prodded it with the toe of her boot. ‘What’s this?’ She stooped and picked up something that looked like a strong-box. Sweeping off the dust and dirt she pointed out, ‘There’s something etched in the lid.’ She walked back to Fenris and handed him the box. ‘Do you perchance recognize this symbol?’

‘And why do you think I should?’ the elf said automatically but immediately after went rigid and turned deadly pale. ‘That’s the seal of Danarius,’ he managed hoarsely.

Hawke almost dropped the box and stared at it as if it contained poison. She tried very hard to gather her thoughts that threatened to scatter to all the four quarters at once. ‘So the bastard has been here after all. All those years ago. And as you already suspected, he has fled head over heels. This strong-box proves it. I cannot imagine he left something like this behind just like that.’

Fenris swallowed with difficulty. ‘Unless it holds nothing of import.’

‘If that were true, why was it hidden in the wall?’ reacted Hawke heatedly. She tried to calm down. ‘At least I think it was.’ She flared up again.‘No, it must have been, otherwise you would have stumbled upon it way sooner. This has been hidden and it has been hidden for a reason.’ She impatiently tried to open the lid but to her frustration it was firmly locked. ‘We need lockpicks for this one. Or a chisel or perhaps a pocket of gaatlok.’

‘Let’s head back to the Keep,’ Aveline suggested, ‘I bet – sorry – our blacksmith can solve this problem.’ Because, of course, the garrison in the Keep employed their own blacksmith. There were enough weapons and armour to repair and maintain.

Along the way Fenris stayed very quiet. He didn’t know if he wanted to find out what was in the box. He had experience with disappointing empty ones but this time he feared it could contain something confronting. He had just overcome his struggles with his memories about being on the run; he absolutely had no wish to face anything according his former master. He suddenly wondered why he had been so adamantly keen on regaining his memories; who knows what they could reveal. He now wasn’t certain he wanted to acquire the facts about his past. He had a new life, one he was very happy with because he lived it with the woman he loved beyond measure. He didn’t want his past to spoil that.

At the same moment he felt her hand slip in his. She squeezed encouraging and supportively. ‘I’m with you, Fenris,’ she said softly, ‘you know that, right? I stand by your side, no matter what.’

He wasn’t even surprised she had guessed his anxiety; she could read his feelings like a book. ‘I know.’ He turned to her and smiled. ‘That is one of the reasons I love you so much.’

-

And now they were gathered in Aveline’s office, standing around her desk, together with Varric, Isabela and Merrill. They threw nervous glances at Fenris but the elf was too wound up to scold them for what they, accidently or not, had caused. He had another, more important issue to trouble his head about. Their solemn stares turned to the strong-box sitting in the middle of the desk. The object was still closed but the lock had been expertly destroyed by the Keep’s blacksmith.

‘Fenris ..?’ Hawke said tentatively.

He shook his head, ‘You do it,’ he murmured, taut as a bowstring. He could not bring up the strength to face what was inside that – thing.

Hawke nodded understanding. ‘Alright, here it goes.’ Slowly she opened the lid.

The box contained a costly collection of gold coins and precious glittering gems. And a document. A very official looking document, dripping with very official red wax seals. Hawke picked up the paper, folded it open and started to read. Everyone around her held their breath. They looked intensely at her face that became more astounded by the minute.

‘You’re not going to believe this,’ she finally said, evidently very upset, no matter how much she tried to hide it. ‘This is a certificate of ownership.’ Her voice trembled. She looked up and caught Fenris’s eyes. ‘Danarius’s ownership of you.’

Fenris felt his knees grow weak and he clutched the rim of the table. ‘What?!’ His vision began to blur and his ears rang with the sheer significance of her words.

‘Do you know what this means?’ Marian gasped emotionally, but he already understood before she explained. ‘Danarius has no proof you are or has ever been his property. I don’t think this document has any value in the rest of Thedas but in Tevinter it–‘ she faltered.

Varric took over. ‘The evil Magister won’t be able to proof you have ever been his slave.’ He grinned with evil delight. ‘Congratulations elf. Now you are truly a free man.’ He added, ‘And the treasure in that box will allow you to live like an Orlesian prince.’ He burst out laughing. ‘Daisy, sweetheart, you can go and blow up as many mansions as often as you like!’

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Fenris has his own reaction to this bomshell, as you can expect...
> 
> Thenks for reading!
> 
> By the way, comments, and criticisms are highly appreciated..!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, of course, Fenris has to say a thing or two about it all...
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Part 14: still following the trail of several paybacks and surprises...

-

Fenris resembled a marble statue, a perfect chiselled one mind you, the way he stood rigidly, still clutching the edge of the table as if he was desperately trying to keep his balance. In every way possible. His whole body had gone taut and he fought to even out his laboured breathing. To make things worse, he could feel every eye in the room focused on him, almost literally boring holes in his head. What were they expecting, for the Maker’s sake?? Him capering about the room, hooting in exaltation and infinite joy and happiness over this unexpected discovery? He tried to ignore the unified and unwelcome attention but it was very hard.  His mind was reeling enough as it was and he had great difficulty with keeping his wits together. Finally he managed, ‘Where did you learn to understand Tevene?’ It was not a reaction one would expect and certainly the gathered persons in the Guard Captain’s office, to be more specific all those eyes fixed on his outwardly composed appearance, completely missed the reason why he asked this. Bar one. His own eyes fluttered for a moment from the piece of parchment to Marian; perhaps only she could understand he tried to keep the turmoil his thoughts made at the moment as much in check as possible. He feverishly hoped so.

Hawke, in the meantime, very much regretted they had opened the box with all the others present; now Fenris had to cope with their reactions as well as with what was revealed. And if how shaken she felt was any indication, she wondered seriously how bad Fenris fared. Thus she wasn’t surprised at all by his seemingly light-hearted and irrelevant question.

She smiled wanly. ‘I didn’t, unless you count your numerous utterances of Tevene curses as some kind of lessons. But the contract is written in both the language of the Tevinter Imperium and in Common.’ She worried her lip and murmured, ‘And that’s odd. At least in my opinion it is.’ She gave him another brittle smile. ‘So I reckon you must be very important to – him.’ She had wanted to say “that monster” but decided at the last moment it would carry too much weight in this already weighty situation. In fact, she shouldn’t have uttered the sentence at all, she realised a heartbeat too late. Fenris cringed and on her turn she did the same. _That was an utterly stupid remark. Think before you say something, you twat!_

Of course she couldn’t have known what the contents of the box would be. To be honest, she had presumed they’d find the deed to the mansion or something like that. But the object bore the seal of Danarius, that alone should have been a warning beforehand. She should have known better, damn it, and opened the bloody thing in the private vicinity of his – her house. His was too damaged to be private any longer. And there was yet even more important information in the contract than she had told. Better to keep that to herself for the time being. She looked askance at Fenris’s seemingly unmoved expression but she wasn’t fooled; she saw the tense muscles of his jaw working under his skin.

‘You could try to slap on a happy face,’ Varric commented out of the sudden. ‘Your brooding demeanour, however alluring it might be, doesn’t fit with this document and the amount of wealth it comes with. It’s not every day you find such treasure, after all. At least in my experience it isn’t. That gold and those gems, together with the definite solid proof of your freedom, call for celebration, not for a moody expression.’

Hawke felt cold ripples glide along her body as if someone had turned a tub with ice cubes down her spine. She gasped at the thoughtless words but Fenris beat her to the effort to give vent to her anger.

The elf sent the dwarf a murderous glare. ‘You’re playing with fire,’ he warned him.

Hawke opened her mouth to intervene but once more she was too late.

‘Indeed,’ mocked Isabela, her coal-surrounded eyes full of cynical humour, ‘it must be a terrible burden to be a free man.’

Wordlessly Hawke stared at the pirate; couldn’t the woman see how hurtful and mindless her nonchalantly spoken words were? Powerless her hands fell into her lap.

Isabella’s careless words cracked the elf’s outward unperturbed composure. He thumped the table with both fists and yelled agitated, ‘I already _was_ a free man! I don’t need this wretched document as some kind of legal evidence! But what I even need less is such a brutal reminder of my rotten life before I acquired my freedom!’ All his markings flared bright blue and as a contrast the dark circles under his eyes seemed to stand out more. His rough velvet voice sounded like a peal of thunder. He took a shuddering breath in a desperate attempt to regain his calm. Suddenly he turned on his heels and stormed out off the room, slamming the door behind him.

Slowly Marian folded the parchment and placed it back in the strong-box. She closed the lid. She couldn’t believe her friends reacted so lackadaisically to this bombshell. And even though she was willing to accept they were as shocked and rattled as she felt at this moment, she was not willing to take their response just like that. When she looked up her eyes were ablaze. ‘Brilliant,’ she scoffed at her shocked audience, ‘instead of trying to be supportive you insist on keeping on acting like a bull in a china shop! Do you intend placing bets on this as well? Like what he will demolish or who he will kill in his fury? Or how long it will take before he calms down? Perhaps, and this one fits more in the line of occurrences I deem, he needs a good fuck after all this? And where will he get it? In the rubble of his ruin, in my four-poster, in the old tent on the slopes of Sundermount? Take your pick now.’

Without thinking Isabela already opened her mouth to give the obvious answer but closed it immediately under Hawke’s piercing glare. Even Merrill’s alcoholic haze had lifted, although her complexion had taken a deeper shade of pink. Nervously she fumbled with her fingers. ‘I never meant to, I mean, I’m sure _we_ never meant to –‘

Hawke interrupted her with an impatient gesture. ‘I’m not referring to you, Merrill,’ she said menacingly, ‘you’re not to blame, unlike the two culprits standing next to you.’ With a dark scowl she added, ‘Apparently it wasn’t enough to tear down the mansion. You also were willing, thoughtless I assume, to push him over the edge. Can you really not imagine what he is going through?’ The question hung heavily in the air while she picked up the strong-box. Halfway her turn to the door she swirled back and said, the look in her eyes hovering between anger and amusement, ‘You didn’t really buy the rubbish of me and Fenris being married, did you?’ And left Aveline’s office with straight shoulders. She hoped fervently Fenris hadn’t left the Keep altogether.

Just before she closed the door she heard simultaneously Merrill chirp almost plaintively, ‘Why doesn’t anyone want to blame me?’ and Varric shout out, ‘ _What_??’ She produced a faint smirk. Sometimes in the midst of darkness there shone a light, sometimes it was but the knowledge of successfully having fooled the dwarf.

-

‘What? My Guardsmen? Have you gone completely out of your fucking mind?!’ Aveline cried out not moments later.

With feigned interest Varric studied his nails. ‘I remember someone complaining about someone else who had swapped the recruitment posters with, what was it again...’ He cocked his head and pretended to think hard. ‘... Ah yes “some filth from the Blooming Rose” if I’m not mistaken. I suppose I could top that but, as you maybe can understand, the message would be rather different.’ He shot her a bright beam. ‘I’m certain your men would be overly surprised to learn their Captain is so fond of betting that it ultimately led to deceiving the Viscount himself and –‘

‘You’re blackmailing me,’ Aveline said flatly.

Varric appeared to be shocked. ‘Madam! How can you suggest such a dishonourable thing!’ he cried out, bringing his hands to his heart, playing to be wounded to the core. ‘I’m just trying to help one friend and keep another out of trouble.’ His smile, sweeter than honey, could have attracted a swarm of bees.

‘Yes, yes,’ Aveline interrupted him irritably, ‘I get the point.’

‘While, on the other hand, that same Captain can show herself in her best light by letting her Guardsmen lend a hand –‘

‘I _said_ I get the point!’ Aveline raised her voice angrily.

Varric leant back in his chair. ‘Good,’ he grinned, ‘I’m glad we have an understanding.’

-

Sebastian felt like an intruder in his own reliable beloved Chantry. He didn’t trust the corridors and airy halls anymore. They had turned into the endless dark winding paths of the Deep Roads for as much he was concerned. The – yeah right –  sweet little ones occupying the rooms of the nursery resembled in his bleak fantasy the filthy Darkspawn he feared as much as his nightmares about the Black City. For days he had been sneaking around the premises; to be frank he hardly dared to slip out off his own cell. Many times he had tried to put up the courage to leave his private little room though he was afraid to encounter – being pounced upon by was a better description, he thought sourly – Sister Geofride. Since the woman had recovered from her so-called sickness he had been on edge. No, to be frank he had been in that state of mind since he had been forced to deal with the – _her_ horde of orphans that had left him like a sticky example of how _not_ to do it. While in the background of his mind still that small voice kept telling him Elthina knew all about it and, worse, set this nightmare into motion. It was too much to handle. Being betrayed by the woman he more or less considered his mother, being fingered by gluey little fingers, being laughed at behind his back by too smug teens ... ugh!

 _Oh, Sebastian, the children are sooooo fond of you!!!_ He hated Geofride’s use of far too many oooo’s and exclamation marks. Besides that, he wondered in a fit of jealousy how those dreadful children were able to remember her name and pronounce it in the right way where they stubbornly insisted on naming him Bror Sebas. While on the other hand ... that little girl that had insisted on cookies and cold lemonade... she had never laughed behind his back. At the end of the day she had returned and asked for a story. It had endeared him and had frightened him at the same time. He had told her a rather fumbled version of a story he could vaguely remember from his youth, which she had accepted with earnest attention. She had given him a hug and a bright smile and had said, ‘Thank you, Bror Sebas. Now I can sleep.’ He had, to his own amazement, tucked her in, although rather bewildered, and he was the first to admit he hadn’t understood any of it until unbearable Sister Geofride had come and explained the little girl had a crush on him. ‘But,’ she had added to his chagrin, ‘she always dreamed about a prince. And look who showed up!’ He had very much wished to strangle her at that moment. And destroy her too righteous cardigan. As far as a cardigan could be righteous, hers radiated it. And he hated it.

He realised very well he was enormously overreacting and his irritation didn’t make any sense at all; it was not Sister Geofride’s fault he had been saddled with the orphans and that he had made a mess of it. But for some reason or another he had been irked by her remark about the lemonade-girl that had fallen asleep with his jumbled stupid story wandering around her mind. It was not that he didn’t want to be the prince for the little girl but Geofride had made it cheap with her cackling explanation. Grumbling under his breath he now, far after breakfast for Andraste’s sake, tried to sneak out to avoid awful Geofride and her orphans, sweet cold-lemonade-girl included, and the Grand Cleric all in once to steal away for a while to take a breather. It became too much. He didn’t get far. As a matter of fact he almost reached the doors ... and in hindsight that was quite a feat.

Because, as if he had materialised out of thin air, Varric appeared.

Sebastian didn't notice him until he, not a heartbeat later, almost jumped to the ceiling when someone gripped his cuff and whispered conspiratorially, ‘Hey, Choir Boy, want to do something Andrastean?’

‘Varric!’ he wheezed after he had caught his breath. At the moment he didn’t know what was worse: to be confronted with the dwarf or the horrible righteous cardigan.

The dwarf smiled. Sweetly. ‘I know you have an army under your command.’

Sebastian’s eyes flew wide. ‘You can’t seriously mean – ‘

Impatiently Varric waved his hands around, ‘I mean the little buggers. I talked with the important woman. You know, the one with all the authority. The one with the grandmother bun.’ (Sebastian flinched.) ‘She said I could borrow you, and the little rascals. You know, your real army.’ On cue all thirty-four villains came streaming out of the storage room that led to the nursery, looking eager and excited.

He stared at them. He stared at Varric. He stared at lemonade-girl that beamed back. He took a gulp of air. ‘Please don’t say you’re acting as the replacement of the Grand Cleric’s authority? Whatever you want to use it for?’ Could life get any worse? He knew he sounded helpless and he didn’t like it one bit. The dwarf’s face split in two and he grinned insufferably. ‘Yes, Choir Boy, as a matter of fact I am. So, time to gather your army of orphans and put them to use. I told the Big Girl,’ (Sebastian flinched again, forcefully this time, until he felt the hand of the little lemonade-girl slip into his), ‘her orphan scoundrels would gladly learn the world by going outside and do something useful for that very world. Do the Maker’s work. Are you catching my drift?’

‘No,’ Sebastian said.

‘We’re going to help Messere Fenris and move a lot of rubble,’ lemonade-girl explained with a shining expression. Sebastian looked blank.

‘You’re going too fast, little princess,’ Varric said, ‘but that doesn’t matter. I’ll fill him in along the way. Come on. We have much to do.’

While they marched out of the Chantry, Sebastian thought he should lemonade-girl ask her name before she would be buried under a load of – whatever it might be what they were supposed to move. And so he did.

‘Mayflower.’ She smiled like an angel. ‘My name is Mayflower.’

‘That’s a beautiful name,’ he said weakly while he let himself pull down the flight of stairs. For some reason or another women always seemed to get their way with him. Women and dwarfs.

-

Anders was busy with refilling a range of small phials with healing potions when there sounded an alarming bustling noise behind his back. He grabbed his staff and swirled around, to come face to face with whoever dared to attack him in his sanctuary. To his flushed amazement he saw Sebastian who on his turn tried to recoil, weren’t it he was pressed forward by a very determined looking Varric. Before he could utter an objection or even a question, the dwarf called out brightly, ‘Blondie! Look, I brought Choir Boy and his little army!’

Only now it got through to Anders how strange it was the repulsive pious Chantry lover paid a visit to his domain; normally he avoided the place like the plague. Simultaneously he hated him seeing here and he already raised his voice in protest. And then he saw the little girl hanging on his arm. And the score of other children following in his wake. Carefully he placed his staff against his rickety desk. ‘What’s meaning of this?’ was all he could manage.

‘I bet you can find a lot of people down here who are willing to earn a few silvers to do an honest day of work,’ Varric babbled merrily, only half explaining or rather making the riddle bigger.

‘Yes...’ volunteered Anders guardedly, ‘and you mean...’

He wasn’t prepared for the attack. The little lemonade-girl, much to both Sebastian’s and Varric’s surprise, hurled herself into Anders’s arms. ‘Oh Messere,’ she wailed, ‘they were so sweet and now they have nowhere to live! We must help them!’ She burst into tears. Anders, holding her and feeling his sleeve getting wetter by the moment, asked flustered, ‘Can anyone explain? Please??’

Varric grinned broadly. ‘Oh come on, Blondie. You really don’t recall what happened in the betting-department? How things got a little out of hand?’

‘What has that to do with it?’ said Anders irritably.

‘Because it got more than a little out of hand when Daisy went and blew up the mansion.’

The healer frowned. ‘Fenris’s mansion?’

‘No, the palace of the Viscount,’ Varric retorted edgily. ‘Of course Fenris’s mansion!’

Anders looked from the dwarf to the Chantry brother and his coterie of orphans and back to Varric. He tried very hard to stifle a grin. ‘With him in it?’

Varric rolled his eyes. ‘Luckily not but the damage is considerable. We want to repair it but we need your help.’

‘And how do you figure I could be of assistance? I’m not a mason or a construction worker! And I still don’t understand half of what apparently happened.’ And besides that ... helping Fenris? Let him deal with the problem himself. He already got the girl, no need to make his life even more pleasurable. He tapped the little girl that still held on to his arm gently on the head. ‘He has another house to live in, you don’t have to pity him.’

She turned her large glistening eyes to him; there were still some tears hanging on her lashes and he immediately knew he would yield. ‘Will you really not help?’ she implored. Anders groaned inwardly. How on earth was he supposed to resist this?! Varric certainly knew who to take with him to plead his case. ‘Alright, alright!’ he cried defeated. ‘Just tell me what you have in mind.’

Varric gave him a big smirk. ‘I knew you would give in. What I’d like you to do is gather as many hands as you can find. We need manpower and among the refugees there must be capable men. Sebastian and his little army you already met. Daisy promised she would get together as many elves as she could find. We can only hope she will set them to work before she humps them.’

This time Anders’s eyes almost popped out off their sockets, ‘What?!’

‘Long story. Can wait. So, Blondie, what say you. Good work, good pay.’

Anders thought for a moment and then nodded. ‘I think I can hire lots of folk down here if there’s silver to earn,’ he said, ruffling Mayflower’s unruly hair.

‘That’s what I hoped for,’ Varric grinned. ‘Mayflower, sweetheart, you’re a jewel.’

-

Hours before all the recruiting took place, Marian had found her lover standing in the hallway just outside Aveline’s office, leaning with his forehead against the wall. Tentatively she reached out her hand. ‘Fenris, I completely understand why –‘

Before she could proceed he broke away from the wall and drew her into his arms in a near suffocating embrace. ‘Forgive me,’ he sobbed and it broke her heart. ‘I’m sorry I snapped like that, especially at you. But this, this ...’ He choked on his words.

‘I know,’ Marian whispered, tenderly dragging her fingers through his soft hair, ‘and you didn’t snap at me.’ She fervently tried to hold back her tears because that was the last he needed right now. He needed her strength, not her waterworks. Just as he needed her compassion and understanding and not her fears or her anger, and least of all some kind of nervous breakdown. In fact, her love was all that mattered right now. Her love for him kept her upright and hopefully would keep him upright as well.

Fenris chose that moment to heave his head. ‘That may be – ‘

She cut him short. ‘Not now.’ She had left a room full of friends in an uproar to follow him. Come to think of it, she definitely would follow him into the den of a dragon. She’d follow him into the maws of the Goddess of Death herself. Without a flinch. On the other hand, that would probably be easier than handle this delicate and difficult situation. ‘Let’s go to my place. You need a drink. We both do.’

He nodded in agreement and took her arm. He started to walk towards the exit, gently leading her down the steps of the stairs. Outside they both halted for a moment, blinking against the fierce sunlight, before they remained their stroll down the Viscount’s Way. And all the while Hawke thought she was a liar. No, lying was not the same as not telling someone the truth. And yet she was keeping the truth away from him because she was scared he would take it badly. And it felt like lying. She couldn’t do this. She had to come out in the open with it before he’d find out himself, because, naturally, he would want to read the contract, sooner or later.

They had hardly passed the threshold of her estate when Fenris said, ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

She as good as jolted. ‘How did you – ‘

‘You’re fidgeting. And you look nervous. Don’t think I didn’t notice. So, what’s wrong?’  

Of course he had noticed, what had she been thinking? He knew her too well, damn it. ‘Yes,’ she began and swallowed, ‘there is more.’ She wavered, afraid of his reaction, but took courage. ‘Remember when we first met? How you were hoping you would find something about your past in that chest in the Alienage?'

‘Marian, please,’ he interrupted her, ‘get to the point.’

She took a breath and plunged into the deep. ‘I know your name,’ she blurted, ‘your real name.’

He went very still.

‘I can understand you don’t want to hear it from me, that you want to read it yourself,’ Hawke rambled on.

‘Just tell me,’ he said hoarsely.

‘Leto. Your name is Leto.’

Although he had braced himself, the blow hit hard, especially because there sounded a sudden echo in his head. An echo of a voice from another time. A familiar voice. At the same moment he could almost see the face he knew belonged to – his mother. Everything began to spin around him. Somewhere from far away he heard Marian say something but it didn’t get through to him what. He managed to reach the wooden bench before he crumpled.

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can imagine that hearing a once familiar name can trigger one's memory. And I thought Fenris deserved to learn something of his past. (A good thing, I mean. Not the popping up of some treacherous bitch.)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

Part 15: and thus continues the never-ending saga of what long ago apparently started with a kiss.

-

It took quite a time before Fenris was able to pull himself together. All the while Hawke had sat next to him on the wooden bench in the entrance, saying nothing at all which was very unlike her. But it was obvious something had happened to the elf that went beyond the crushing experience of simply hearing his given name, as far as you could call that simple anyway. She suspected it had triggered another flash of his memory. It had happened before on a few occasions, that was inevitable with all the lovemaking they had done, although, apart from the first time, it hadn’t upset him this much. And at this time there had been no lovemaking involved. She deemed it better to withhold from comment until he had somewhat come to his senses. And so she had just taken his hand in hers. She had put the contract on the desk and decided to leave it there for Fenris to choose what to do with it.

Fenris leant with his head against her shoulder. He held his eyes closed, trying to catch the image that had popped up in his mind when she spoke his name. It hadn’t returned in full, but different from that night he had made love to Marian for the first time, and lots of times thereafter for that matter, it kept shimmering in the background of his inner vision. His mother. Somewhere he could still see, or picture, or perhaps recall but with more clarity this time, a cascade of bright red curling hair and a spark of smiling green eyes. And being able to recall anything from before his markings happened, or better to hold on to it, be it still remotely, was a wonder in itself. Somewhere he could still hear the echo of a warm, well-loved voice. Slowly realisation dawned that this meant he had one of his lost memories back, that it hadn’t slipped out of his fingers as always had been the case before. He wasn’t sure how he had imagined it was supposed to feel, because up until now being able to cling to such a memory had been so inconceivable, he had as a precaution cast the possibility aside. And now it had happened against all odds, he still didn’t know how to feel about it. It was heartening, frightening and unsettling at the same time.

The first time it had transpired, the first time his memories had coursed through his existence and had vanished immediately after, he had gone rigid; it had almost forced him to leave the woman he loved. He had felt utterly cold while holding her warm body in his arms. It had been devastating. This time he felt totally different and the thought of leaving her didn’t even cross his mind, no matter how dazed he was. When he asked Marian to tell him his real name he hadn’t expected something like this would happen. He had tried to steel himself because he had damn well comprehended it would be a shock, one way or another. But he never had foreseen it would lead to this.

He remembered Danarius had asserted, on several occasions, names had power. That they carried weight. Names meant something, were important. Without a name a person was – without an identity. Not just someone without a name but a nobody. A nameless person was a non-existent person. He might walk and talk and draw breath but he wasn’t really – real; he could as well wander aimlessly in the Fade. Soulless. On the other hand, the Magister had claimed with solid conviction, names could be manipulated. He followed and supported an old Tevinter philosophy that taught a name wasn’t picked randomly; even simple peasants didn’t choose a name, it got delivered to them. Instinctively parents knew which name fitted their offspring. Names and persons were inseparable. And thus you could turn it around, so to speak. One could benefit from that knowledge and use it for their own profit. “Take a person’s name away,” Danarius had stated more than once, “and they fall at the mercy of the one who withdraws their personality. Give him a new name, a carefully chosen one, and perform a ceremony with the proper rituals, and that person will be bound to you forever.” It was close to blood magic. Actually it was a form of blood magic as Fenris was given to understand. And he knew very well his former master had wanted him to know it. Had wanted him to know he would always be his Little Wolf and the act of binding was irrevocable. He still remembered clearly the smug smile that went with the statement. It wasn’t for nothing he had been so scared during those nights on the run; it wasn’t for nothing he had killed... He refused to complete that thought. Involuntarily he shivered.

No wonder the bastard had deprived him of his real name and had given him a new one. Even with the loss of his memory Danarius wouldn’t have been able to fully hold him in his power. Not even as the slave he had been at that time. He would always have had his name, his true being. But by giving him his new name, Danarius had really made him his possession.

It was one of the things he hadn’t told Marian yet; or, come to think about it, it was the only thing. Probably because the theory was so hard to explain to a free spirit as hers. He was still amazed he had been able to muster the courage to tell her about the Fog Warriors, although a few bottles of wine had been a big help back then. And the fact she had been so understanding and even comforting hadn’t made it too difficult either. And during the short time they had been allowed to stay on Sundermount he had shared with her his experiences of the frightful nights while he was fleeing from Danarius. It hadn’t been easy but he had promised himself he would plunge into the deep and he hadn’t been disappointed with her reaction. Again she had been understanding. Of course she had been, he should have known better than to fret beforehand. He should have realised she herself had been on the run with her family for years, that she knew all too well what it meant to be hunted. He had even mentioned Hadriana, although he had not elaborated and to his gratitude she hadn’t pushed him to tell more. She had just listened.

He smiled inwardly. She could be some kind of raging hurricane but on other occasions turn into the eye of the storm. No, that didn’t do her credit at all. The eye of the storm indicated the next outburst was waiting around the corner and she wasn’t like that. She was supportive and considerate and most of all a well of love and warm dedication in which he could wash away his hurt and anguish. And yes, now and again the still well became white water rapids. But he had learned to hold on to the oars and, if necessary, to the board and wait to float back to the warm well when the peace of the gentle bubbling spring had returned.

And now he had learned his true name. Leto. He was a person again. It was as if a bright sunbeam lightened a small but significant spot in the dark vastness that was his history from before the lyrium markings. He knew this didn’t mean total freedom of mind but it was another crack in the imaginary shackles he still dragged behind him. A very important one.

‘Thank you,’ he whispered.

‘For what?’ croaked Marian.

He realised she was, if possible, even more tense than he. He tentatively touched her wrist with his fingertips. ‘For giving me my name.’

There was a short silence. ‘I didn’t give you your name. Your parents did. I only recovered it. By chance.’

Slowly he lifted his head from her shoulder. His mind was still reeling but not any longer out of confusion. ‘I’d like to believe it wasn’t by chance.’ He had to hold on to that, it was a beautiful thought. For years his subcutaneous simmering anger, and since recently his flourishing love, had enabled him to keep the fear for his former master at bay. The fear he would come for him and with just uttering his name, his second name, his _false_ name, would bludgeon him back into submission. Would force him once more to leave carnage in his wake. And now, with that warm husky voice of hers, she had told him his _real_ name and with that had summoned that splash of light and chased away a piece of the darkness laying over his past.

Unknowing of Fenris’s thoughts Hawke already opened her mouth to say, ‘Since when do you believe in fate?’ but changed her mind at the same moment. This was no occasion for flippant or snappy remarks. ‘You think so?’ she instead reacted rather lamely. Although, she silently promised herself, if he would keep this up she would sooner or later shake his shoulders and rattle his brain. She appreciated he was astounded and baffled, as indeed she was, but he wasn’t one to roam along the lanes of supernatural thinking.

Something like a smile flickered around Fenris’s lips. ‘Frankly, I’m not certain what exactly I am thinking at the moment,’ he said, ‘but I want to believe, since you are the one who gave me back my name, that must imply something extraordinary.’ He rested his forehead against hers. ‘I can hardly believe Chance would bother with a Dalish elf destroying the very wall in which my name lay hidden.’

Hesitantly she returned his smile. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she hazarded now his mood seemed to have lifted, although he still was acting too strangely to her taste, ‘maybe the Lady of Fortune got bored and decided to concoct a booming plan.’ She thought it was a good start to lead him back to rational thinking. It got through to her he hadn’t even used the word “witch” to indicate Merrill. It became creepy.

‘Even in that case it wouldn’t have been mere chance,’ Fenris said with a chuckle. ‘But the fact remains; Danarius took my name away and you returned it to me.’ He could feel her frown against his brow. She probably thought he had gone completely crazy and he couldn’t blame her. At this very moment he was close to assuming the same. ‘I think I would like to have that drink right now.’

Silently Hawke agreed. Perhaps a dram of strong liquor would return his sound judgment. She still recognized he had had to manage with quite a lot this afternoon, but her straightforwardness began with the inflexibility of a glacier to collide with her will, strong as it might be, to be lenient with his odd behaviour. 

They walked into the library and Hawke poured two generous measures of whisky after she had shooed a disappointed Tempest out of the room. She had sent her hound home after the discovery of the strong-box and he had as the obedient pet he, in fact, wasn’t by far, to her astonishment done her bidding and had played the role of the good dog, patiently waiting for their return. _More like a child waiting for a bedtime story_ , she thought with tenderness when she took in his cocked head, drooping ears and pleading expression. But apparently Tempest sensed the mood and he hadn’t put up a fight. He had just let out a hardly audible whine and had given her the classic performance of the hurt puppy eyes before she had determinedly closed the door behind him.

They sat down on the couch before the hearth. Out of custom Bodahn had lit a fire, although summer still blessed them with warm weather. ‘So,’ she said cautiously while she handed him his glass, ‘what exactly happened?’

Fenris took a sip. ‘One of my memories returned, again.’ Hawke wasn’t surprised, after all she had expected this. ‘But this time it stayed,’ Fenris went on. ‘I now know my mother had long, red hair and green eyes. I know what her voice sounded like.’

Marian almost dropped her glass and her eyes flew wide. ‘No wonder you are so upset,’ she murmured. She put the vessel on the side table next to the couch and pensively bit her lip. She started to comprehend why he was acting so out of character; this had never happened before, no wonder it had this impact. On the other hand, it was so not like him it made her feel uneasy. And she could also sense there was something bothering him he didn’t tell her. She didn’t mean to be rude but her common sense took over. Or rather, she simply couldn’t help herself. And so she blurted, ‘And you think this happened just because of hearing your name?’ She looked sceptically. The last thing she wanted to do was insulting his feelings, especially after what happened. She acknowledged he was vulnerable and without doubt confused and stunned. She could understand that. But she knew him as a steadfast person. Or perhaps it was better to say he would sooner burst into anger than into tears; his present behaviour brought her off balance.

Fenris pinched the bridge of his nose. How to describe this to a level-headed daughter of Ferelden who didn’t even believe in the importance of the name of Andraste? ‘Names have significance,’ he started an attempt to explain the old, rather sinister Tevinter philosophy. ‘They carry a piece of a person’s essence.’ He was damn well aware he had to choose his words carefully if he didn’t want her to revolt before he even had the chance to finish.

Hawke listened to him without any interruption, though with growing annoyance. ‘With all due respect, my love, but I think this is a load of bullshit,’ she stated forthright when Fenris was done. ‘In my opinion it sounds like something a certain kind of superstitious people try to accomplish with fingernails and human hair and a few well aimed pins.’ She sounded outright contemptuous.

‘Danarius believed strongly in it,’ Fenris said, somewhat taken aback by her reaction. He had expected resistance, incredulous anger even, not this disdainful sneer.

‘Did he really? Or did he simply want _you_ to believe it?’ Hawke asked brusquely. ‘So he could dominate you even more? And let’s face it: in the end he failed gloriously to keep you in control. You ran away anyhow.’

Fenris flinched and then flared up. ‘But not after he spoke my name and ordered me to slaughter my saviours and I obeyed him and murdered all those Fog Warriors that had protected and trusted me!’ he said savagely.

Abruptly Marian snapped her mouth shut. _Oh yes, very clever to come up with that one, you moron_ , she chastised herself, _you know how guilty he still feels about that, what a sensitive subject it is and will be for the rest of his life._ She took a moment to gather her calmness. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said meekly, ‘that was uncalled for. It’s just –‘ she let out a sigh and rubbed her eyes, ‘you’re such an intelligent and rational man. It’s hard to see how you of all people can fall for that idiotic mumbo jumbo of names being some magical devices with which you hold sway over others.’ When Fenris kept silent she carried on, ‘Were you present at that so called ritual of your name-giving? I mean, were you conscious at the time?’

‘No. Or at least I don’t remember it.’

‘Did you hear Danarius talk about it with other Magisters?’

‘He talked about it with his apprentice.’ Although Marian knew about Hadriana, there was no way he would pronounce that vile bitch’s name in this delicate situation. Cautiously he glimpsed at Marian from the corner of his eye. What was she aiming at?

‘Of course he did.’ She had got the picture by now. Bloody hell. That fucking Magister was even more cruel than she already was aware of. With all her might she tried to rein in her steaming fury. She sounded unnaturally strained when she said, ‘So wouldn’t it be more likely he played a cruel mind game on you? That he applied psychology rather than philosophy? You have a very strong personality, I imagine Danarius would have wanted to use every means available to keep you in check.’ She clenched her jaw to prevent she would burst into a string of curses. That wouldn’t bring the message home.

Fenris rested his forearms on his thighs and stared into the crackling fire while he absentmindedly waltzed the whisky around in his glass. He let her words sink in; her statement came so unexpected and sounded so alien he had sincere difficulty with letting the grave significance get through to him. But he couldn’t deny it held a certain appeal. Reluctantly he acknowledged it could even hold the truth. Finally he volunteered, ‘You might be right.’ He turned his head and shot her a crooked smile. ‘After all, you have been right about a lot of other things as well.’ He got a sudden flashback of their first night together, or better of the morning after when she had given him a good piece of her mind and filleted him with that gravelly voice of hers. He shuddered at the memory. But just like then she now also succeeded in helping him to order his swirling thoughts and feelings.

Hawke knew very well what that little smile meant. ‘At least I didn’t yell at you this time,’ she said, a bit ashamed.

His smile broadened. ‘You didn’t yell at me back then either.’

‘I’m glad _you_ think so.’ Hawke let her fingers wander down his back and up again and stroked the exposed skin of his neck. ‘Fenris, I know names are important and I even agree they are important for your identity. Besides that, I can imagine it´s hard to live with a name like a property-label. But I refuse to believe in their magical influence. Think about it: if that were true and if it were that simple half of Thedas would walk around like automatons!’

He couldn’t help laughing, if only at the image. He shook his head, sat up again and made an effort at pretending to be indignant. ‘Do I look like an automaton to you?! Danarius may have taken away my memory, he didn’t remove my brain!’

‘He may not have removed your brain, he damn well washed it,’ Hawke mumbled without thinking. ‘Till a certain degree,’ she added hastily when she saw Fenris’s hurt look. And again she wanted to punch herself. ‘Sorry, that came out all wrong. It’s just so hard to grasp that an intelligent and erudite and normally logical reasoning person like you would fall for the nonsense of name magic, or how you should call the bloody stuff.’

‘I’ve heard that “nonsense” as long as I can remember,’ said Fenris softly. ‘I never implied I condoned it, I said I accepted it as the truth.’ He raked his head to come up with an example that would make it clear. ‘If you had been taught all your life that tranquillity is the only way to handle mages, wouldn’t you believe it?’

Hawke bowed her head. ‘You have a fair point,’ she had to admit.

Fenris pulled her in his arms and rested his head on her hair that smelled of rosemary. He inhaled the scent like a nearly drowned person gulped in oxygen. ‘Can we please drop the item for the time being?’ he pleaded. ‘It’s becoming too much. I promise I will think about what you said. No, even better, I promise I will try to see the truth of it. Because, as I noticed before, you can say very sensible things.’

With a little sarcastic chortle Marian kissed the crook of his shoulder. ‘So generous of you! I take it you mean between all the blathering and the silly things I blurt out.’

 Fenris had a hard time not to burst out laughing. ‘I didn’t say that,’ he managed.

‘No, _I_ did and _you_ thought it.’ Before he could utter a protest she heaved her head an inch and murmured sensually in his ear, ‘I have an offer for you: we are going to take a long relaxing bath and I’ll give you a wonderful neck massage to chase away all the tensions. And for a blissful while we’re going to forget everything about blown-up mansions, whether or not by chance returned names and especially everything about depraved Magisters and their evil scheming.’ _And I never_ ever _want to hear the word “name” again in relation to magic or misuse of psychology_ , she thought but not said aloud.

Fenris strengthened his embrace, at the risk of crushing her. ‘I think I’ll take that offer.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I have been thinking about this name-issue since, in the game, Aveline asked Fenris if he couldn't change his name. Indeed, why couldn't he? There never came an explanation so I tried to come up with one myself.  
> I promise next chapter will be about the attempts of repairing the damage that has been done. All the damage. Starring Varric and others. With guest roles.
> 
> Thanks for staying with me along this story that's getting hugely out of hand!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post two chapters in a row, because the last one was sooner some kind of interlude.
> 
> Enjoy!

Part 16: And the story continues with a Guard Captain on fire and an ignited mage...

-

Aveline glared menacing at Seneschal Bran who, in turn, beamed brightly back. A few moments ago he had bustled into her office to deliver his message, but even before he had opened his mouth Aveline had guessed what he was about to say. It was obvious he very much enjoyed her coming predicament and she on her turn already revelled in _his_ coming disappointment. She would, however, play along for now. Besides that, the first trickles of anger began to fill her brittle mood and he was the perfect victim for letting off some steam before she would explode.

‘You heard me, Guard Captain,’ he said, hardly able to veil his delight and, of course, not at all being in touch with the dangerous atmosphere, ‘the Viscount requires your presence right away.’ His beam got a malicious edge. ‘You may have been a lauded heroine not that long ago but right now His Excellency is not that pleased with you.’ He couldn’t hide a nasty grin. ‘Not to say he is outright furious.’ His grin broadened and his voice got a false silken touch. ‘Don’t ask me why, it’s probably a misunderstanding, one you undoubtedly can clear up within minutes with just a few words. Nevertheless, my advice is not to let him wait.’

Without a word Aveline stood up, meticulously pushed her chair under her desk and swept out of the room, taking care of nudging the Seneschal out of the way with a well placed move of an armoured elbow. To her satisfaction Bran couldn’t suppress a grunt. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, how clumsy of me,’ she said sweetly with a not to misunderstand venomous tone, shoving him some more. Leaving him behind in his wheezing suffering she walked with long strides over to the Viscounts office and knocked at the door. Even that knock radiated her anger.

She knew with near certainty what this was all about and right now she blamed herself she hadn’t found the time to do something about it sooner; she should have _made_ time and backed Donnic’s initiative with more vigour but the whole demolished mansion-business had taken more from that precious time than she had anticipated. She pressed her lips in a thin line. Donnic had stuck his neck out and she should have put more effort in adequately handling the information he had given her and even more effort into protecting him. She had only skimmed the discriminating documents before she had locked them away but, instead of fretting over the dwarf’s and the whore’s stupid acts and the reaction of the noble neighbours, she should have shoved them under the Viscount’s nose immediately.

Her breath hitched.

Donnic had stuck his neck out to protect _her_. She had known this, of course, only now it hit her with harsh clarification. And at the same time as a bright revelation. Damn. She clasped her hands, took a deep breath and pushed out the gathered air, hoping to find some kind of quiet before she had to face the Viscount. She would fucking defend her decision and would fucking well defend Donnic with even more ferocity. She took another breath. Bloody damn right. _(Drinks after? She feared she had to rehearse that line over and over again before she was able to utter it to him without turning into a stuttering blushing waif, even though they had shared a drink already. But that had been more or less by accident.)_ She straightened her shoulders and decided she would stand her ground and put her foot down. And that foot would carry the weight of an elephant. She growled inwardly. It was just the Viscount she had to confront; the man scared away from a simple “boo”. _Keep that in mind. Bloody hell._

The sound of the word “Enter” had hardly had the chance to fade away when Aveline aggressively pushed open the door and, indeed, entered. The Viscount, sitting behind his desk, looked up. It wasn’t a pleasant look. On the other hand, the look he received wasn’t pleasant either. That look represented and radiated all the annoyances and irritations of all the Guard Captains ever been appointed along the centuries and who had been summoned by their superiors to rectify all the decisions they had made behind said superiors’ backs to – well back them. And now at once in unison had got fed up with it and decided to rebel through the present Guard Captain.

Dumar wished to ignore that for the moment. It had taken too much energy to muster the courage to scold his subordinate to pay that intimidating look any heed, so he clenched his jaw, avoided her fiery eyes and managed, as icily as he could, ‘Guard Captain.’ He hoped it was a cold enough tone to bring the message home. To emphasize the statement he didn’t offer her a seat; with all his might he tried to avoid fidgeting with his fingers. He was a nervous wreck but she was the last person he wanted to know about it. ‘I just had a visit from my dear friend Marquis de Calignac. He came with a grave complaint about you personally. In fact, he demanded I should relieve you from your office, you and your lieutenant Donnic. Apparently you have not only insulted him severely but even had the audacity to manhandle him without any reason at all. He was very upset and talked about abuse of power and behaviour above one´s station.’ He once again tried very hard to give her a stern glare but once again, since he was Dumar, that glare resembled two weakly poached eggs.

Aveline relaxed, though she carefully maintained her stiff posture.

´What do you have to say in your defence?’ the Viscount ventured, trying not to wheeze.

The Guard Captain stared vehemently at the window behind the Viscount, and her blank expression betrayed nothing of the victorious song that sounded in her head. ‘I didn’t know you counted slavers among your friends, Messere,’ she said impassively. As she had foreseen, the message hit home. With force. Dumar grew rigid. Not with anger but with dread.

´I will not tolerate such insults –‘ he started with a quivering voice, already crumpling into a hapless heap.

‘I have proof,’ Aveline interrupted him with the solid conviction of someone who knew she had the rock-hard evidence in the form of some very compromising contracts safely locked in the safe in her office. She might not have yet looked into them the way she should have, but she relied blindly on what Donnic had told her; she owed him and – and this Varric wouldn’t like at all – the Merchants Guild more than a few drinks. _Drinks after ..?_ She once more mused rosily Donnic had shared at least that one drink with her and had let that memorable occurrence again accompany with one of his secretly hidden but nevertheless devastating smiles. She shook herself inwardly and managed to turn the sudden upcoming blissful expression into a dark threatening scowl. ‘If you like I can show you the compromising letters and contracts right this moment.’

Viscount Dumar took a feeble, shivering breath. ‘I don’t think that’s necessary, Captain,’ he quavered, ‘I take your word for it.’

 _You better_ , thought Aveline viciously. She couldn’t help saying, ‘Perhaps, in future times, you pick your friends more carefully, Messere.’

The Viscount gave her a wan smile. ‘I shall take your advice into consideration, Captain. You’re dismissed.’

With a smile wide enough to let through a hay wagon Aveline turned on her heels and marched out off the office. While she passed the insufferable Seneschal Bran, who did his utter best to keep up the appearance he just lingered around and had not eavesdropped at all, she offered him some kind of venomous grin. ‘I reckon the Viscount could use a glass of hard liquor.’ She smiled nastily. ‘Very hard liquor, I deem.’ And with that she strode back to the Barracks, leaving both the Viscount and the Seneschal in a pool of doubt and despair.

-

Like a three-star general overlooking the movements on the battlefield, Varric supervised the progression of the repair works. The only items that lacked were the cocked hat with the plumes, and the baton. And perhaps the highbred steed but then again, dwarves and horses didn’t go together that well, if only because the mutual sizes were out of proportion. ‘Save the bricks that are not too damaged, pile them up. We can use them again,’ he ordered the pack of workers that had swarmed out of the Undercity and the Alienage, eager for the silver they were promised. He had climbed on a small table he had dragged outside to have a better view.

‘And who put you in charge?’ grumbled Anders peevishly. He kept a close eye on the men he had recruited. Not because he would care much if they did even more damage to the mansion but he wanted to prevent they got themselves into trouble in the posh quarter of Kirkwall. He didn’t trust them and he trusted the nobility even less. Secretly he was glad with the presence of the dozen or so guardsmen who had Aveline sent to give a hand. Normally he would cross the street when he saw one of them approach but now they could come in handy if the shit was about to hit the fan.

Haughtily Varric answered, ‘I’m a dwarf. Thus I know about building and stones and bricks and mortar and such. We practically invented the bloody stuff.’ He tried to look down on him but even standing on his makeshift dais, or strategic hillock if you will, he was still shorter than the healer.

Incredulously Anders stared at him. ‘You’re a merchant and a storyteller!’ he cried out in distress. ‘Not a day goes by that you don’t remind us of that fact! I’ve never seen you pick up something more heavily than a quill, or perhaps your crossbow! And now you claim you are some kind of authority?’

‘Not to mention he as good as fled Orzammar,’ commented Sebastian while he passed by, dragging something along that looked like a piece of a broken rafter, ‘some dwarf he is!’ For the first time in his life Anders agreed with the Chantry Brother. He regarded him with something that could be called approval.

‘It’s in the blood,’ Varric stated solemnly, ‘you can’t deny the blood.’

‘Yes,’ Anders scoffed, ‘I suppose that’s the reason why I see so many dwarfs around to lend their expertise.’

‘You don’t really think I want one of those nug lickers around after what happened?!’ Varric parried resentfully. ‘And besides that, you know how the saying goes.’

‘No.’ Anders bit menacing. ‘Do enlighten me.’

‘One dwarf is an union, two dwarves make an assembly and an assembly means war,’ Varric declaimed, ‘so be grateful there is only me.’ He frowned and cocked his head. ‘To be frank, it baffles me I still am able to cough up that stupid narrow minded-people wisdom,’ he mused, somewhat annoyed.  He shook himself into reality again, only to see Anders’s wide opened eyes, focused on some distant happening. ‘Hey, Blondie –‘ Varric cut himself short and followed his gaze and held still. ‘Oh.’ They could continue hurling stones (or bricks, those were plenty around) at each other but not with _her_ present. He was not exactly an Andrastian as much as he was not exactly a – how to call it? a Stoner..? but he, as everyone present, recognised _her_ authority. Even Anders did.

Well, yes of course the healer had a lot more on his mind to throw at the dwarf but at the very moment he got interrupted by the last person he expected to see. It got too far to say she was the last person he _wanted_ to see because that person would have been the Knight Commander but this woman almost perfectly matched that feeling. He tried to fade back into the surroundings but she had caught his existence. He froze and she smiled. To his dread she stepped forward and extended her hand.  He reacted as some kind of puppet on a string and stretched out his own hand to meet hers. She as good as smote him with her warm and radiant smile. ‘I understand you are the Healer who tries to lift the pain off the shoulders of the forgotten ones? The ones even the Chantry can’t reach?’

He wanted to burst into righteous fury, to tell this woman who radiated affability like she was handing out Satinalia presents, the Chantry was but a marionette, controlled by the Templars and especially by the monster named Meredith, but he failed completely. All his het up anger dissolved under this woman’s cordial and friendly gaze.

‘I only want justice,’ he managed weakly.

He caught her warm smile and felt the light touch of her fingers upon his head. ‘And you will have it, ´ she answered softly, ´as long as you are willing to receive it.´

That made him come back to life and pick up his courage. Or maybe it was better to say Justice was violently nudging his mind, probably because his own name – or function – was mentioned, and it was hard to ignore that. He could as well try to stop the upcoming high tide. Sometimes it was difficult to tell who was in charge of his own head, even he was willing to acknowledge that. ´Perhaps the Chantry could be an example and put more effort into reaching the ones everyone else considers a loss,´ he boldly rambled on, or let Justice ramble on, ´instead of wasting so much time of falling on your knees and pray to Andraste.’ He faltered for a moment under her unchanging friendly expression but then drew in a sharp breath and Justice went on remorselessly, ‘Instead of praying your voices raw with pleading her to provide for the poor and help the needy, you could make a stand and do the providing for yourselves for a change.’

It was all true and he meant it from the bottom of his heart but this was not the right time. _This is not the right time_ , he thus yelled at Justice. Who didn’t listen. What was new.

‘We already do that, you know,’ Elthina replied softly, ‘but I think in reality you are referring to the way the laws are frightening you.’

He stared at her, perplexed. ‘They don’t frighten me, they baffle me,’ he answered bitterly. ‘Your laws always manage to pacify the common crowd because you feed their fears, instead of explaining how magic really works.’ He snorted derisively. Or, to be honest, it was again Justice who did the snorting and Anders desperately tried to rein him in. To no avail. But that, of course, went without saying. ‘Tell me, do you, your Grace, have any inkling of how magic really works? Of how your average mage doesn’t have a clue how to perform blood magic, let alone summon a demon? Or are you, and the likes of you, just mortally afraid of something you think will somehow materialize out of thin air, something you can’t comprehend let alone handle?’ He smiled nastily, or better Justice did the smiling for him. Anders made a hard effort to overrule him. _Shut up you moron! Do you want me to get arrested?!_ But he wasn’t able to stop the unleashed spirit that finally saw his chance to rant against a representative of everything he stood against. Panicking Anders thought _or perhaps this is his brainless payback for what the suspicious tea has put him through._ ‘Or are you too afraid we creepy mages will take over the world and undo all the work of your precious Andraste?!’ Anders tried to suppress the next grin that tried to twitch his mouth which made it look rather manically. ‘Perhaps your laws give more witness of how your ignorance frightens you than they can ever frighten me.’ By now the healer fought against the blue shimmer that threatened to take him over.

Elthina regarded him with mild bewilderment that, however, rapidly started to change into befuddled alarm.

‘You must know by now that not you and not the Viscount, for that matter, rule this city but the one that sits on her self-proclaimed throne in the Gallows – oomph -’ Anders toppled forward and fell on all fours.

Finally Varric had come to his senses and realised Blondie was very fast working himself into a fit and with that in a hopeless dangerous situation. He kicked the mage hard in the kidneys. ‘Choirboy!’ he yelled over the general din of the construction works in progress, before anyone could recover and make severe decisions. ‘Your Mother is here!’ To his satisfaction, and as he had expected, Sebastian came hastily running back from the spot where he had just dumped the piece of the broken rafter. _Good boy,_ he mumbled. ‘As you can see, Your Grace,’ he said with a honeyed smile, ‘we are doing the Maker’s work here. We are housing the homeless and giving employment to the ones without work. Many hungry bellies will get fed tonight.’

Elthina’s eyes swivelled from the fallen mage to the beaming dwarf standing innocently smiling on his strategic hillock. She still looked puzzled. Or perhaps even more. But before she could react Sebastian reached them. With force he ignored the prostrated form of Anders who, by the way, at that very moment was having a heated argument with Justice about the right place and the right time for all kinds of stuff, and thus thought it better to keep his position on the floor for the time being, hoping some convenient gap would materialize in which he could disappear.

Instead the former prince turned to the Grand Cleric. ‘Your Grace!’ he said breathlessly. ‘What an unexpected surprise to find you here!’

Elthina smiled somewhat hesitantly back. ‘Sebastian! Look at you, all smudged and sweaty and, er, labouring.’ She frowned. ‘How unlike you,’ she mumbled. She cleared her throat and composed herself. ‘Your band of orphans is waiting to present their share. They have been baking and cooking and making lemonade for hours to feed the men and women who are so hard working to repair the mansion.’ She shot him a bright smile. ‘Sister Geofride told them you would be more than happy to help them carrying the fruits of their labour over here.’

Sebastian stiffened in horror.

She added, and both the former Prince and Varric could have sworn she deliberately ignored the plain panic showing on the Chantry brother’s face and, worse, winked with an almost naughty twinkle, ‘Andraste and the Maker are not at all interested in being worshipped, my child. Praying and lighting candles call for little endeavour. They are far more pleased with the ones who are really showing their good intentions and sacrifice themselves for the good cause.’ Her smile turned into a beam. ‘Sister Geofride is waiting with the children to spread their good deeds along the thirsting. Please join them.’ With that she turned away, without casting even a single look at the desperate mage still lying at her feet. She twisted her head for a moment to look over her shoulder and coughed delicately while she said ingenuously, ‘Please, child, don’t let them wait.’ With that she swept away from the scene, letting everyone behind in several states of awe.

Sebastian stood rigid, not knowing to feel exalted by the visit of her Grace or wretched by the prospect of what would be awaiting him when he would go back to Chantry: joining the righteous cardigan and all the little enthusiastic yapping and darting around puppies that apparently had been doing their very best. And would suck up the last of his waning energy. He sighed miserably.

With wicked glee Varric witnessed Choirboy’s predicament unfolding before his very eyes. He saw Sebastian’s jaws work and finally set into a strained grin. ‘I will go and meet them,’ he managed, ‘and lead them with Sister Geofride to give their offers to the workers.’ He turned away as a whipped dog.

‘I have no doubt you will be rewarded greatly in the afterlife for this gallant and brave self-sacrifice,’ Varric said serenely. Sebastian shot him a venomous look over his shoulder but withheld from further comment.

When he was out of earshot Varric burst into laughter. ‘You can get up now, Blondie. She has left. No-one will drag you to the Gallows, at least not for now.’

Anders scrambled onto his feet and looked menacing at the dwarf. ‘Just one word, one wrong word and I will freeze you on the spot,’ he threatened.

‘I wouldn’t dare,’ said Varric though his evil grin promised otherwise. This was a too good incident to leave unmentioned, but, as always, he had to pick the right moment and that right moment wasn’t now. He turned to the workers. ‘Put some back into it, people,’ he shouted, ‘we don’t have all day you know!’

-

Fenris woke with a start and with a name ringing in his head. _Leto._ He vividly saw in his mind a woman with a cascade of flaming red curls and a loving smile. He waited for a moment and pondered the memories of his dream, fervently clinging on to the slow fleeting images. No Danarius. That was a good thing. No pain, no dread, no – how had Marian called it? – no brainwashing. He felt perhaps some bewilderment but mostly peace. The loving expression, meant for him, of that he was certain, lingered. He turned to look at the woman lying next to him and found her awake also, but just. She looked back through bleary eyes. ‘Bad dreams?’ she mumbled and even in her half-sleep she managed to sound concerned. He bent down to plant a soft kiss on her lips. ‘No. I believe I saw my mother.’

She let out a soft sigh and gave him a warm smile. Her hand came up somewhere out of the tangled drapes and her fingers trailed along his face. ‘Good. That´s good.´

He kissed her again and then lay down, pulling her beloved body as close as possible without crushing her. ´What are the plans for today?’ he murmured in her hair.

She giggled in return. ‘To pester the dwarf as much as we can.’ She rolled over to nestle even deeper in his arms and caressed his chest with her fingertips. ‘But only after we made love of course. And after that made love again. And again and – ‘

The rest of her words got lost in an exalted yelp when he pushed her on her back and started that game of love with slanting his lips over hers and kissing her senseless.

-

 

                     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

Part 17: in which the “Complete People’s Laws of Kirkwall” plays an interesting part...

-

It was already early in the afternoon when Hawke and Fenris finally woke up again. They had slumbered off after their exciting amorous exertions, but now slowly returned to the land of the living. Daylight was streaming through the curtains and tickled Hawke’s nose. She stifled a yawn and turned with a soft grunt. She exhaled with a feeling of deep satisfaction. ‘How many times do you reckon we have made love over the past, er, what is it? What day is it anyway?’ she mumbled sleepily while she settled herself in her lover’s arms, not willing to get up yet, though she knew it would be inevitable within short time. One way or another.

Fenris chortled throatily while he slowly dragged his fingers through her hair, and at the same time involuntarily sent sparkling shivers down her spine. With tender fingers he straightened out the worst of the tangles. ‘Funny you put it that way. I lost count of both days and how many times, to be honest.’

She managed to get passed the shivers and instead heaved her head and looked at him with a mischievous smile. ‘So you have been counting!’

‘I tried to, but somewhere along the track I missed a few occasions.’ He caught her twinkle and got alert. ‘What? Did you really want me to keep score?’

Marian giggled and kissed the smooth skin of his chest. ‘No, of course not, it’s not some kind of contest! I was just wondering.’ She sighed contented. ‘I know it sounds soppy but I’ve never been so happy in my entire life.’

Fenris bent over her and inhaled her smell. He felt a tingle starting in his nostrils, travelling down his throat and spreading from there through his body to nestle somewhere in his abdomen.  ‘Then,’ he had to swallow, ’at the risk of sounding soppy as well, I have to confess the same.’

‘Hmm,’ she murmured contemplatively, ‘taking into consideration you’ve been whacked around the ears for a considerable amount of times of late, not to mention you had to handle a lot of frolicking and last but not least the demolishing of your mansion, I must say I’m impressed. If not flattered.’

‘Are you now,’ said Fenris. He nuzzled her neck. ‘And who says that wonderful state of mind is your doing?’

‘You horrible elf!’ started Hawke indignantly but he silenced her by kissing her passionately.

They got interrupted by an impatient woof sounding from the other side of the bedroom door. ‘Ah,’ Marian concluded, ‘that’s Bodahn’s way of telling the time for breakfast is already long passed and lunch is almost overdue.’ Reluctantly she sat up. ‘Better send the dog than being yelled at yourself. Clever dwarf.’ She turned to Fenris with an apologetic smile. ‘I’m afraid we can no longer postpone the start of everyday life.’

‘Whatever that means,’ Fenris deadpanned, ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if we end up being pirates, say around midnight. With tattoos to prove it. Probably pictures of breasts.’ He tilted his head and added, ‘I wonder how that would look on you.’

Marian’s merry laughter drowned in a new string of agitated barking and, if fearing that wouldn’t suffice, Tempest reinforced his demand by jumping against the door. The wood bulged. ‘Alright, alright!’ his mistress cried out. ‘Calm down you bloody rascal! We’ll be down in a sec!’

While they were getting dressed, Marian caught Fenris absentmindedly staring at the strongbox she had moved to the writing desk in the bedroom.

‘What are you going to do with it?’ she asked hesitantly. ‘I mean with the treasure we found inside.’

Fenris shrugged. ‘I don’t know if I _should_ do something with it,’ he replied, ‘or whether I want to.’ He turned his head away. ‘It’s blood money,’ he stated grimly.

‘Blood money?’ Marian frowned. ‘No! You mustn’t reason like that! You better consider it as, well, some kind of compensation. Even smart-money, if you will.’

‘For whom?’

‘For the boy that never asked for what happened to him. For the boy whose life was taken away, in the most gruesome and cruel way thinkable. The boy named Leto.’

He closed his eyes and when he opened them again she saw they were moist. He took her hand and squeezed softly. ‘I will think about it,’ he promised.

-

Isabela stood next to Varric, watching the work in progress, or better ogling the men who were labouring themselves into a sweat under the burning sun. Fenris’s place was buzzing like a beehive with scores of people hacking and braking and dragging rubble out of the way. One of the refugees from Darktown, who had been a master-mason in his former life, had taken the lead and Varric had happily let him. He had grown tired and above all thirsty from shouting orders. Right now he stood with a satisfied expression on his face overlooking the scene with a pint of ale in his hand.

At regular intervals the orphans from the Chantry, under the leadership of an ever increasingly grumpier looking Sebastian, delivered fresh supplies of food and drinks; at first just cool water and lemonade but fairly soon Varric had asked for, or rather demanded, a decent amount of good ale. ‘A man cannot just work by water,’ he had stated firmly.

‘Where’s Daisy?’ the dwarf informed at the very moment.

‘I sent her to Sundermount, like you asked,’ Isabela answered.

‘On her own? You think that’s wise in the state she’s in?’

Isabela smiled devilishly. ‘Which state are you referring at? The mother of all hangovers or the perpetual arousal that still beats the sensation of hammers in her head? I’ll go for both.’

Varric glared fiercely at the pirate queen but the first words of his reply got lost in an ungodly din. The freshly appointed overseer had decided on where the props had to be placed and now a few of his subordinates got busy with large heavy sledgehammers to batter away what was left of the wall that once separated the hallway and the parlour. The dwarf took a gulp of air and tried anew. Louder by now. ‘I’m sure you’re exaggerating,’ he shouted, ‘nevertheless you shouldn’t have let her go alone.’

‘As a matter of fact I didn’t,’ yelled Isabela back, grinning, ‘that yummy neighbour of hers went with her.’

‘Really?’ Varric looked surprised. ‘Sweet blooming mutual love. Who had thought.’

Isabela shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Or somewhat less sweet but smouldering lust. On the other hand, I never can tell the difference; I don’t excel in love as you know.’

Varric shook his head. ‘And I still highly doubt that,’ he mumbled but he made certain the pirate didn’t hear him, which wasn’t that difficult with all the racket around. ‘Hey, Choirboy!’ he bellowed loudly. With a deafening rumble the remains of the wall came crashing down and the noise level descended to relative quiet.

Sebastian turned with a snarl. ‘What?’ he spat irritably; all his Andrastean cordiality had long ago drowned in an ocean of anger and despair and overall frustration.

The dwarf flashed him a bright smile while he raised his empty mug. ‘Think you can find more where this came from?’

‘Why don’t you go and see for yourself,’ the Chantry Brother growled spitefully, ‘I’m not your errand boy and neither your servant.’ With that he stomped off in the direction of the Chantry; even his broad back radiated righteous rage.

‘Ah well,’ Varric sighed with regret, ‘I suppose it had to end at some time. Still, it was nice while it lasted.’ He brightened up. ‘I guess it’s time for my role in the continuing drama.’ He clapped Isabela on the lower back. ‘I’m off to the Keep. See you tonight at the Hanged Man. Try to keep your greedy hands to yourself in the meantime and don’t forget to lure Hawke and Fenris to my place tonight. Pay them a visit and think of something innocently clever to say.’

As it turned out Isabela didn’t need to bother with visiting the Amell Estate because Hawke and Fenris showed up not minutes after Varric had taken his leave. ‘I had pictured this scene completely differently,’ Hawke remarked while she viewed the activities, ‘like in you doing all the hard work and we watching with a bottle of wine close at hand.’

Imperturbably Isabela waved Hawke’s snarky comment away. ‘You have people who do all the work and people who have to, er, supervise.’ Fenris cocked a dark eyebrow and Marian started to laugh sarcastically so Isabella thought it wiser to change the subject. ‘Are you coming to the Hanged Man tonight? To play Wicked Grace?’

‘Perhaps? Why?’ Hawke asked guardedly.

‘You haven’t attended the Wicked Grace-evenings for quite a while and, let’s face it, that’s what started all this mess,’ Isabela explained straight-faced.

Hawke stared incredulously at her. ‘Of course!’ she exclaimed dramatically, ‘ _that’s_ what it started! How did I fail to grasp such a plain fact!’

Vehemently Isabela fluttered her hands in an attempt to hush up the other woman. ‘All right all right, I admit that placing bets and doing some snooping around have also generously contributed to all the excitement. But that never would have started if you two hadn’t locked yourself in, er,’ (another wave, in the direction of the house this time), ‘there.’

Marian snorted sardonically but Fenris interrupted her before she could utter another word and begin an ordinary slanging match, or worse. And though he didn’t doubt there were plenty of men around who’d enjoy a catfight, he wasn’t one of them, especially because he knew how sharp the teeth and claws of the cats concerned were. He didn’t wish to witness that particular clash. He needed a diversion and though it went against all his convictions and on the other side went _with_ all his fears, he made his firm decision. ‘Since we’re here anyway I may as well lend a hand,’ he thus said coolly, ‘after all, it’s my mansion.’

‘Yes, but it’s not your fault it lies in ruins,’ Hawke argued heatedly.

‘That may be but it’s still my mansion,’ Fenris repeated calmly.

‘Have you gone out of your mind?!’ Isabela cried out vigorously. ‘ _They_ are getting paid, you’re not!’

‘It is still _my_ mansion,’ Fenris reiterated with maddening stubbornness. He took a deep breath before he made his final decision. His mouth twitched for a heartbeat but he dismissed the eerie sensation. He didn’t want to feel weak anymore. He didn’t have to. After all, Marian had given him not only worth but strength as well. With sudden determination and without further reasoning he stripped off his shirt and walked with a resolute gait to the crowd of workmen. He picked up a piece of rubble and within no time was one of _them_ , one of those workmen. There were a few curious glances at his meandering white tattoos, but no-one made a remark. Let alone a nasty one. Possibly it helped he wasn’t the only elf around. They just accepted him as one of the workers and he revelled in it.

And he didn’t have to turn his head to know he had got the reaction and armistice he had aimed for. Both women gaped at him, Marian out of sheer bafflement and unbelief he had taken off his garment in public just like that and melted with the others, apparently not worried about any reactions whatsoever, and Isabela with hot unrefined admiration, if not a sudden hunger attack.

‘Wow. Are those going all the way-‘

‘Yes,’ Hawke ruminated dreamily and then shot to attention. ‘Stop drooling. He’s mine.’

‘Hmm,’ Isabela murmured distantly.

But the fire was out the air.

-

‘Be prepared for anything,’ Hawke warned while she and Fenris entered the Hanged Man later that day. Fenris looked askance at her and lifted a corner of his mouth to give her a crooked smile.

‘Usually I’m prepared for everything,’ he said, ‘although I must confess a couple of events have occurred lately I couldn’t have dreamed would ever happen in the real world. But I told you before I wouldn’t be astonished if we’re going to end up being pirates, so everything between that and peacefully going home won’t render me speechless. Nevertheless, you won’t catch me saying nothing will surprise me anymore.’

‘Just be on your guard and keep your eyes open.’

They entered Varric’s suite and were greeted by Isabela, Aveline, Anders and Sebastian and the dwarf himself, who all five were already gathered around the table. And were innocently chattering, Marian noticed. And she noticed something else. ‘Where’s Merrill?’ she asked. Her already honed suspicion got sharper.

‘At home,’ Isabela explained. ‘Poor Kitten is having difficulties with digesting the copious amounts of rum she has been imbibing the other day. I’ll check on her later. Again.’

‘Do sit down,’ Varric said jovially, gesturing at some empty seats, ‘and have a drink. Wine?’

‘As long as you haven’t been fiddling with the bottle,’ Marian couldn’t help sneering.

With a hurt expression Varric laid a hand on his flourishing chest hair. ‘Madam! So distrustful!’

‘And with good reasons too,’ Hawke grumbled sullenly. She wasn’t willing to yield that easily.

Varric poured two glasses and took the first sip himself. ‘There. Satisfied now? No poison, no foul tasting additives and absolutely no presence of certain herbs.’ (Anders groaned involuntarily and neither Hawke nor Fenris could suppress a small grin.)  Varric swivelled his eyes between the lovey-dovey couple and the grudging mage and let a stern look linger on the latter. The mage rolled his eyes but with a submitting sigh let the dwarf know he could take the lead. With a slightly strained smile Varric turned back to his goal. ‘Come on. Let’s bury the hatchet and play cards. It’s been too long.’ He shuffled the deck and dealt. After a few rounds and some harmless chitchat about the restoration of Fenris’s mansion, Marian finally felt her tension wane and allowed herself to loosen up.

And that was exactly the moment Varric chose to launch the attack.

‘Oh, and by the way, Hawke, Fenris,’ he babbled casually while he had his eye fixed on the cards in his hand, ‘that lovely marriage contract of yours, you know, the one with the droll scribble in the margin? Turns out it’s completely legal.’ Foreboding silence followed in which the significance of his words sounded like the echoes of heavy metal slabs falling on granite. Everyone present held their breath.

Marian dropped her cards and simultaneously Fenris dropped his glass that bounced from the table and ended with a dull crash on the wooden floorboards. Hawke stiffened. She stared wide-eyed at the dwarf for a few moments but then relaxed. ‘Oh no,’ she smirked, wagging her finger, ‘oh no, Varric. This one is too easy, you’re just fucking with us. Nice try but no way I will fall for it.’ She heaved a sigh of relief and tutted disappointedly. ‘I thought you were better than this.’ 

At first Varric just raised his brow, outwardly not reacting to her demeaning reaction. He just folded his arms and leant leisurely into the back of his chair.  He looked calmly at her and as a true lawyer began to sum up the facts to build his case. ‘As I recall well, the document bears the seal of the Viscount, as well as both your signatures _and_ that of a witness.’

‘So?’

‘So, actually that suffices.’

Hawke started to feel a tad nervous under the dwarf’s unruffled expression and that nervousness grew when she caught that special glimpse of triumph in his eyes that only appeared when he played a trump card everyone had overlooked and no-one had seen coming. And speaking of trump cards, the whole game was all but abandoned. Everyone had laid down their cards and followed the other unfolding play. ‘Don’t talk rubbish! I forged the signature of the Viscount myself!’ Marian cried out in dismay. ‘So how can you state the contract is legal?!’

A broad smile spread on Varric’s face. ‘As it happens you don’t need the signature of the Viscount, more or less in the same way you don’t need the blessing of the Grand Cleric to be legally wed. All it takes is the seal and the three signatures from the bride, the groom and a witness, and boom, you’re married. Easy as pie.’ With a smug grin he added, ‘Something wrong, elf? You look like you’ve been slapped in the face with a dead fish. Or a living one, for that matter.’

Fenris didn’t answer but his hand automatically reached for the bottle of wine sitting on the table. He took a deep pull straight out of said bottle since his glass lay in splinters on the floor.

Marian glared daggers at the dwarf. Very sharp ones. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she hissed viciously.

‘That’s what I figured,’ Varric nodded, insufferably understanding, ‘so I took the liberty to come up with solid proof. Aveline, if you’d be so kind..?’

The Guard-Captain brought out a thick and impressive looking tome she had kept hidden in a satchel sitting on the floor next to her chair and handed it over to the dwarf. Hawke’s heart sank when she recognized the title.

 ‘As you can see,’ Varric went on, ‘this is “The Complete People’s Laws of Kirkwall”. I believe you have a copy yourself lying about somewhere in your library.’ With a heavy thud he tossed the volume on the table and opened it. ‘Let’s see,’ he mumbled while he leaved through the pages, ‘ah. Here we have it. I take it you want to read it for yourselves..?’

Marian snatched the heavy book from under his hands and started reading; with every word her panic rose. The dwarf, for once, hadn’t been lying. It was all there, every statement he had claimed to be true turned indeed out to _be_ true. She looked up, at first not at Varric but at Aveline. ‘Was this your idea?’ she asked hoarsely, feeling utterly betrayed by her oldest friend, ‘did you whisper this into his ear?’

But the Guard-Captain denied her accusation. ‘Not at all. Apparently Varric knows the laws of this city far better than you do. Then again, he has lived here much longer. He just asked me to bring the book.’

‘As if he got married at a daily basis,’ Hawke scoffed. She realised Fenris hadn’t reacted yet, at least not with words and her heart sank some more. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered, ‘I didn’t know, I really didn’t know. Please don’t think I tried to frame you.’ She didn’t dare looking at him, afraid of what she might find. To her absolute confusion and bewilderment the elf started to chuckle softly.

‘I should have known. This fits so perfectly with everything that has happened up till now. I must have been blind not to see this coming.’ The soft chuckle rapidly developed into wholehearted laughter.

‘But you said you didn’t want to get married,’ Marian spluttered, not knowing how to respond or what to think anymore, ‘at least not yet.’ She felt completely off balance. This was the last way she had expected him to react on this unexpected and rather unsavoury piece of news.

‘That’s true,’ Fenris admitted, wiping the tears from his face, ‘and as I remember neither did you. But being thrown into the deep gives you little choice. Or do you want me to ask for a divorce? Undoubtedly that also only requires just a seal and a small collection of signatures.’

‘As a matter of fact,’ started Varric but was immediately nudged into silence by Aveline’s sharp elbow.

‘Of course I don’t want a divorce!’ Hawke shouted huffily.

‘That’s a pity,’ Anders mumbled. He didn’t look all too happy with the situation but he also shut up after Aveline’s other elbow had done its work.

Fenris sobered up a little. ‘Well then,’ he said, ‘I suppose we just have to get used to be husband and wife, don’t we? After all, I already carried you over the threshold and sealed the marriage contract with a kiss.’ He fervently bit his lip to prevent he’d burst into laughter once again. In the meantime he realised some anxiety played a significant role. But he knew with certainty Marian would break down if he let his demeanour slip. So he carried on. ‘Who’d have thought the practise turned out to be reality? Didn’t I mention you wouldn’t catch me saying nothing would surprise me anymore? I believe I was wrong. I didn’t see this one coming.’ He tenderly caressed her cheek. ‘You didn’t frame me, my love. On the contrary. I was caught already.’

Marian bowed her head and buried her face into her hands. All kinds of memories had started to swirl through her mind. Memories of her sister’s fantasies about how the most important day of her life should look like. Bethany had been so elated by just the prospect of an eventual marriage, although she knew her chances were meagre since she was a mage. Memories of her mother’s ideas about how her only surviving child’s marriage would turn all heads and her sighs of desperation when that same daughter obstinately refused to even talk about the subject. She suddenly felt so guilty, she had let them both down. She felt tears prick behind her eyes but didn’t know how to express adequately her abrupt misery. ‘I never had a proper wedding,’ she thus wailed instead.

‘Perhaps I can be of help in this,’ Sebastian piped up, ‘I can arrange a ceremony in the Chantry – ‘

Hawke reacted like she’d got stung by a wasp. She jerked her head up. ‘I don’t want your blasted Chantry!’ she spat at Sebastian who looked taken aback, if not afraid. It seemed he made a serious effort to dissolve into the back of his chair under her flaming gaze. Hawke let out a sigh and backpedalled. ‘I apologise,’ she said meekly, ‘I didn’t mean it like that but I don’t have much faith in the Maker and even less in his bride.’ She smiled bleakly at the word and without turning her head added hissing as an aside to Anders, ‘And don’t you even try to turn this into your advantage.’

Anders closed his already opened mouth. Fenris smiled. He had taken her hand in his. His warm skin comforted her.

‘Don’t take this personally,’ Hawke went on, taking up courage and addressing Sebastian once more, ‘but both my father and sister were mages, so I hope you can imagine I don’t harbour warm feelings for your Chantry.’

The former prince mumbled something incomprehensible under his breath but withheld from further comment.

‘It’s not about flower arrangements and bubble wine,’ Hawke continued in the awkward silence that had fallen after her outburst. She shot Fenris a short smile and he answered by squeezing her hand, ‘and not even about a pretty dress and rituals.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s complicated,’ she murmured, thinking once more about her sister and mother.

‘Perhaps I have some kind of solution,’ Varric filled the void that once again threatened to overtake his suite. All eyes turned to him but he was used to that, not to say he got invigorated by it. ‘Why not go to the Dalish elves?’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Fenris flew up before his – ha – wife could react. ‘I hope you’re not referring to my so-called elven legacy? I’ll have you know I have done enough frolicking for the rest of my life.’

‘I thought you liked it,’ Marian murmured, tired and defeated.

‘And I did,’ Fenris stated vigorously, dragging her closely into his arms if only to let her feel how much he felt for her, ‘but only with you. I mean, do you really want this whole bunch to witness -’

She came back to existence and put a hand on his mouth to interrupt his vicious statement. He had shaken her back to life and thus the old twinkle was back. ‘No! Of course not! That’s just for me and you!’

Varric delicately cleared his throat. ´If you will let me finish..? Fine. What I meant is you can have your wedding on Sundermount. Flowers, bubbles, pretty dress and all. And to top it, the Keeper can perform the rituals. And there you have it: a true marriage. Elven style. So, what about it?’ He looked expectantly at the both of them. The both of them looked suspiciously back.

‘So, that’s the reason Merrill isn’t here,’ Hawke said slowly, ‘she’s up there, trying to persuade Marethari, isn’t she? Hangover!’ she mocked mordantly. ‘How long have you been scheming this?’

‘Since I became aware you made a slight miscalculation,’ Varric said sweetly, ‘by thinking you weren’t married. I just waited for the right moment to tell you.’

Fenris smiled. ‘As I pointed out earlier, I should have known better.’

‘Edwina!’ Varric called out and not moments later the barmaid showed up, as if she had been waiting around the corner, which was actually true, carrying a tray with a large bottle and seven glasses. ‘At least I can offer the bubbles,’ Varric beamed. He uncorked the bottle with a loud “pop” and poured the foaming wine into the glasses. They toasted to the happiness of the bride and groom. Even Anders, although still somewhat reluctantly.

Marian looked at Fenris and finally reciprocated his warm and happy smile.

‘A dive into the deep it is,’ she said and he kissed her.

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But, of course, there will be another turn...
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

Part 18: If revenge is a dish best served cold, this one is frozen in the meantime I fear. Nevertheless we happily soldier on.

-

Enjoy!

-

In contrast to all the agitated yelling and shouting from not a week previous, the mood in Varric’s suite at this moment was almost eerily serene. Or perhaps listless was a better word to describe the ambience. There hung definitively an air of stunned disappointment. Hawke and Fenris had taken their leave after emptying a few glasses of champagne, and not a moment after the couple had walked through the door, the merry atmosphere had waned.  The rest of them now sat in silence, wrapped up in their own thoughts. Now and again a cinder in the ever-burning fireplace crackled and the laughter and loud discussions of the usual crowd down below in the taproom drifted up. But that was all the sound for quite a while.

Isabela tilted her chair on the hind legs and rested her booted feet on a corner of Varric’s table. Pensively she swirled the rum around in her glass. After the champagne she had turned back to hard liquor. Bubbles were for show, rum was for real, and she desperately needed the alcohol to quench her distress. The juicy scene she had anticipated had been smothered before it even had had the chance to bloom.

‘I must say, that was more than a little unsatisfactory. To be honest, I had hoped for a tremendous row. With lots of shouting and accusations flying around.’

‘You’re not the only one,’ Anders groused sullenly. He wiped away a drop of sweat that trickled down his temple, absentmindedly wondering why on earth the dwarf insisted on having a fire going on in the hot months of summer. Stupid dwarves.

‘There was breaking of glass involved,’ the stupid dwarf pointed out.

‘That may be,’ Isabela complained, ‘but not in the way I pictured it. I had aimed for at least a few scratches and bruises, more than one black eye, and the throwing about of furniture and glassware. I even had been willing to clear away the debris afterwards. This,’ she vaguely waved at the remnants of the wineglass on the floor, ‘is definitively not my standard of a good fight.’

‘Really? Blowing up the mansion wasn’t enough? You wanted my suite being destroyed as well? I thought the expression on Hawke's face was priceless. That was worth all the cost, or at least a substantial part of it.’

‘I for one can do without all the destruction,’ Aveline said snappish. She frowned when the hubbub from below got a rioting kind of character with a sudden crash of smashed crockery and screaming voices breaking out. Out of some kind of guard instinct ( _order will rule!)_ her fingers started to twitch, but she decided the ruckus was part of a normal evening in the Hanged Man and she didn’t have to interfere till Corff raised his voice in alarm. So, after the hardly noticeable short pause, she went on, ‘But I have to admit Fenris’s reaction was rather – strange. Uncanny even. I mean, I was astonished enough when he took the damage to his house so cool and collected but this time he actually laughed. _Laughed_! I can’t remember I ever heard him do that before. I didn’t even know he was capable of laughing out loud!’

Varric stared gloomily into his ale, mulling over the subject. Meditatively he said, ‘I once asked him if brooding was a sport in Tevinter and he told me the expression he showed at that moment, the standard moping one, mind you, was his happy face.’ He snorted at the memory. ‘I suggested alerting the Chantry to put that astonishing fact on their calendar.’ He shook his head and grinned with a flare of sudden merriment. ‘Things have changed, obviously. The broody elf has turned into a contented if not joyful one.’ He added with a small frown, ‘On the other hand, I must say I rather like this new Fenris. He is much more approachable.’

‘Oh yes, let’s pretend the rabid dog has suddenly changed into a cuddly bunny,’ Anders grumbled sulkily.

Varric looked up and beamed broadly. ‘Is this Mistress Jealousy speaking, or is Justice whispering in your brain the evil mage-hater needs to be taught a lesson? If that’s the case, I would strongly recommend you call the spirit back to order; he almost had you arrested today for not keeping his blathermouth shut.’

‘I just want to make clear he doesn’t deserve her,’ the healer groused, his face a fair impersonation of a thundercloud, if only at the remembrance of the awkward scene earlier that afternoon.

‘Oh, and you think _you_ do?’ Isabela sneered. Mistress Jealousy not only pestered Anders, but had wormed herself into her system as well, and she definitively wanted to get rid of the nasty sensation. Being jealous had never plagued her before and it didn’t suit her. Deep inside she knew the disturbing feeling was about how Hawke and Fenris so strongly cared for each other, but that was even more distressing than willing to admit it had to do with how she lusted after both of them. She took a large quaff of her rum.

‘The way of the heart is as unfathomable as the will of the Maker,’ Sebastian put in a pious word.

Four pairs of eyes rolled wearily and four exasperated sighs floated up to the ceiling.

‘Perhaps you better stick to carrying lemonade and such,’ Isabela grumbled annoyed, ‘I thought you were rather good at that.’ And then her eyes lighted up with a wicked twinkle. ‘On the other hand, you could also go down on your knees and pray to the Maker for some unfathomable way to give Aveline the courage to drag Donnic into a corner and persuade him to have _his_ way with _her_.’ Ah yes, this was great, a perfect distraction from her own weakness. And she got her award immediately after.

In an instant Aveline turned crimson out of a mixture of fury and embarrassment. ‘Insufferable bitch!’ she yelled while Isabela went into a fit of laughter.

‘No wonder you’re so grumpy all the time and bark at everyone!’ she hooted. ‘Considering all those hormones running rampant! You simply must be _screaming_ for a good flip-over!’ With that she almost choked on her fit of laughter.

‘Now now ladies, please calm down.’ Sebastian tried to settle down the row between the two women but got rewarded for his effort with a splash of rum hitting his face when Aveline succeeded in swatting the glass out of Isabela’s hand. It shattered against the wall.

‘You miserable piece of shit,’ the Guard Captain growled. ‘How dare you desecrate my, my _hormones_ like that!’ Just in time she swallowed back the word “feelings”. Maker knew Isabela didn’t need more fuel to harass her. She realised the pirate whore had managed to wind her up once again and she had, without thinking, taken the bait. It made her even angrier.

Varric picked up the remains of yet another glass. ‘If you go on on this scale, I have to buy myself a new drink set,’ he remarked dryly. It certainly took the sting out of both the anger and the glee.

With an irritated huff Isabela leant back and Aveline remorsefully pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Sorry Varric,’ she said meekly, ‘I’ll pay for the damage.’

‘Don’t bother,’ the dwarf replied. ‘I believe I still have the resources to replace all the broken glassware.’ Carefully he put the shards on the table and turned to Sebastian. ‘Perhaps you could leave the Maker out of our business the next time you open your mouth? I thought the Big Man had abandoned the world anyway, no need to hint at his non-existent interference. I’d rather keep the rest of my property intact, if you don’t mind.’

For the second time that evening Sebastian withheld himself from comment. He frowned inwardly; this shouldn’t become a habit.

-

Hawke stumbled into the parlour and crashed down on the sofa. She stared into the cold, swept clean fireplace and wondered what the hell had happened. The champagne bubbles seemed to flutter through her head and played havoc on her mind. She sensed Fenris sit down next to her. The whole way home they had exchanged little words, or better none at all. They had walked through Kirkwall in the gentle summer night under an impossible bright star-sprinkled sky, absorbed in their own contemplations. At least, Hawke assumed, _Fenris_ had been absorbed with contemplations; she herself merely had been absorbed with confusion and fragments of thoughts that had fled to all directions before she could have made them coherent. And despite his reaction earlier that evening, Hawke was convinced simmering anger was boiling behind the elf’s once again calm posture and it was just a matter of time before he would explode.

‘Alright. You can start shouting and raving. We’re out of the dwarf’s reach and earshot and you won’t rouse the delicate nobles living around. These walls are sound-proof. You have been marvellous back there, keeping your bearing and self-control and all that. I must say I’m impressed and not for the first time. But you must be fuming inside. This stupid situation is all but my fault, I know it.’ She also knew she was rambling, if only to keep the unrest whirling in her mind at bay.

Fenris chuckled shortly and moved closer to her. Softly he tapped her hand. ‘Will you please stop blaming yourself? After all, how were you to know? I believe you’ve held yourself from everything remotely connected to marriages as far as possible.’

Hawke sat straight and huffed. ‘A little too far, as it turns out. Next time I come up with some bright idea, remind me to check the “Complete People’s Law of Kirkwall” first,’ she added, quite sarcastically. ‘Before I create another disaster.’

Her lover, correction, husband, pensively cocked a dark eyebrow. ‘Disaster?’

Hawke realised how she sounded and deflated. She wanted to slap herself; she made it seem as if she rejected him. ‘I’m sorry, that came out totally wrong,’ she admitted with a feeble attempt at a smile. The outcome looked like something between a maniacal grin and a hysterical outburst in the make.

With a slight sigh Fenris put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. He could make a pretty good guess at what was really bothering her. With tender fingers he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. The state she had been in after the scene in the Chantry Square was still fresh in his mind and he remembered her faraway look before they signed the – suddenly legal – marriage contract. It made her recent outburst very understandable. Sebastian might have looked hurt and, undoubtedly, he had felt that way, but the Chantry Brother didn’t understand half about Hawke’s trepidations. He, at the other hand, did. High time to show it. ‘I know this is about your family.’

Marian turned and buried her face in his shoulder. She didn’t cry, just held on to him. Firmly. ‘Yes,’ she mumbled after a while, hardly audible with her mouth pressed in his shirt. She let out a snort. ‘Nothing about me stays a secret with you, does it.’

Fenris chortled. ‘I thought that was one of the obligations of a husband.’

He made her laugh and he felt relieved when the ripple of her amusement hit his skin.

‘Only of the good ones I assume.’ She lifted her head and he saw a stray tear hanging on her lashes. So she had been crying after all. She had kept very silent then, for him not to notice. Automatically his hand moved to wipe the drop away. He only managed to let well up more tears, although she heroically tried to swallow them back. Instinctively he bowed his head and kissed her tears away.

‘I know I am not good with family related feelings,’ he said clumsily. ‘I can’t recall having family. But I think I can understand you miss them dearly.’ After another tender kiss he added, ‘Especially at occasions like this.’ He clearly remembered that particular morning he had stood on the brink of abandoning her because of sudden upcoming and even faster fading images of what he believed were members of his family. No, he had no idea of how to care for family but he knew damn well how it felt to lose them, strange how it might sound. But, as she had made very clear that very morning, some things – some feelings, some persons – were more important than even family ever could be.

Hawke leant her head against his chest and gratefully accepted his arms that encircled her body. ‘Bethany so badly wanted to get married,’ she murmured, ‘although I think it was the special day she craved for.’ She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘No,’ she corrected herself, ‘that does her no credit. Of course she wanted the dress and the flowers and all the attention a bride gets, but what she really desired was someone to love, a person who loved her back. Like Father and Mother loved each other.’ She tilted her head and looked at him. ‘The way _we_ love each other.’ New tears appeared. ‘I would have so much granted her this happiness.’

Fenris let his fingers trail along her face. The vision of Marian pushing that dagger into her sister’s heart to end her suffering suddenly became so dreadfully clear, he had the feeling it happened again. Back then he had been no more than a silent witness, not knowing how to react. Now he felt her pain and desperately wanted to comfort her. ‘I know,’ he whispered, ‘and I also know she would grant _you_ the happiness she never was able to experience.’

Hawke took a deep sigh and then gave him a crooked smile. ‘I sound like a whining waif, don’t I. No, don’t answer that.’ She giggled out of the blue. ‘I don’t need my _husband_ to lay bare my failures.’ Before he could protest she got up from the couch and said, ‘I want to take another look at “The Complete Laws” and so on and so forth. If only as some kind of distraction.’

-

Fenris had followed Hawke into the library after he had retrieved a bottle of Antivan Summer Passion out of the cellar. He found her studying the heavy tome that apparently held all the laws of Kirkwall the People had to follow. Willingly or not. He joined her at the table and poured two glasses of the hearty red wine. She thanked him absentmindedly, too absorbed with the text she was reading. He started reading as well, although he couldn’t believe he, or Marian for that matter, would find anything amiss. He was the first to admit he had been too rattled and confused to study the text adequately before, but, well, it wouldn’t hurt to give it a new try.

And then his eyes narrowed. Suddenly he noticed something he had overlooked in the husky light of Varric’s suite. He pulled the candle sitting on the desktop closer to take a better look. No, he was not mistaken. Damn well he wasn’t. This might be a different copy of the book, but apparently the same trick had been performed. Forcefully he clutched Marian’s hand and she looked up confused.

‘Wait,’ he said slowly, ‘someone has been fiddling with the pages.’

Perhaps it was due to the flickering of the candlelight casting wavering shadows that had made him aware of the imperfections. But, whatever the case, it was evident some pages had been cut away and others added. He dared to bet the glue had hardly had the chance to set.

‘This is not the true text.’ He smiled nastily. ‘I must say the dwarf has gone through a lot of trouble to fool us but this is a forgery. Be it a very clever and skilful one. I wager he has hired a craftsman to do the job.’

Because, as before, this had Varric’s signature stamped all over it.

Hawke’s eyes flew open, full with alarm. ‘A forgery?!’ She took a deep steadying breath. ‘Does this mean we aren’t married after all?’

She let her fingers track the hardly discernable cut in the parchment and grimaced very nastily when she felt the slightly rough edges of the pages. ‘Can I kill him yet?’

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘Have I gone through that emotional roller-coaster for nothing? What do we do now?’

She really very much wanted to strangle the dwarf. Although, as with the unsavoury scene at the Chantry Board, she imagined he could not have known what he had made her put through. Varric never had meant to hurt her. They simply had been caught in that silly web of revenge.

Pensively Fenris tapped with his long, slender fingers on the tabletop, searching for a way to save the situation. ‘We could get married, if you want to.’

‘No,’ Hawke said harshly, without thinking.

The next heartbeat she realised how blunt her reaction must have sound. From the corner of her eye she saw Fenris’s slightly hurt expression. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said contritely, ‘that came out all wrong, I didn’t mean it that way.’ It got through to her she said that quite often of late. Perhaps she should contemplate her words before blurting them out loud thoughtlessly.

She laid her hand on his and squeezed softly. ‘Of course I’d love to marry you, only not now. Not because of all that’s happened of late. If we get married, _when_ we get married, it must be solely our decision. A decision made on our conditions. You told me you weren’t ready for marriage yet, and I agreed. I still do. I say we just keep practising until we both are convinced it’s the right time to make that step. I don’t want to hastily ring the wedding bells out of some – overreaction.’

Fenris nodded his acquiescence. ‘I suppose you’re right. We must pick our own time and at least wait until all the commotion has dwindled away.’

‘I’m glad you’re of the same mind.’ The twinkle in Marian’s eyes suddenly returned. ‘Besides, what kind of proposal was that anyway? Shouldn’t you go down on your knee and offer me a ring with a ridiculous large diamond?’

A corner of the elf’s mouth lifted in a lopsided smile. ‘Would that please you?’

Marian laughed. ‘I’d sooner think you had lost your mind, or read too much over-romantic poetry.’ She tilted her head. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I would have felt flattered. Though a little bemused, I suppose.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ Fenris smiled. ‘I see I’ll have to hatch a more original plan to sweep you off your feet.’

‘You’ve already accomplished that,’ Hawke smiled sweetly back, ‘no need to get overboard with outlandish ideas. Although, I would appreciate a nice surprise. Something like an exclusive night out. A picnic under the stars, perhaps..?’

Fenris chortled. ‘I’ll keep that in mind as well.’ He planted a soft kiss in her hair. ‘But, like you said before, what do we do now? Do we keep pretending we believe in the hoax, or do we come out with the truth?’

‘Hmm,’ Hawke murmured, absentmindedly turning her glass around on the table. And then her face lighted up. ‘We do the latter.’

‘Oh Maker,’ Fenris said, alarmed. ‘I know that look.’

Marian beamed brightly. ‘Indeed you do. It’s time for one last prank. One that will shut them up forever.’

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned to post this chapter way sooner, but a constantly crashing computer made that quite impossible. Sorry about that.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter and, as always, thank you so much for reading!


	16. Chapter 16

Part 19

-

It started with a kiss and on and on it went. Something between a merry-go-round and a rollercoaster I suppose...

Enjoy!

-

It was early in the morning. So early in fact, the sun hadn’t risen yet; a grey light seeped into Hightown and slowly descended to Lowtown, but, however early it was, once again the sky was full of the promise of yet another bright day. There seemed to come no end to this exceptionally hot summer. The only difference was that the morning air slowly but surely began to obtain that special tang of chilliness that indicated autumn was on its way.

Fenris stood before his mansion and stared pensively at the new door and fresh masonry. The workmen had done a terrific job and restored the house to its full – well, glory was perhaps a too exaggerated word since there hadn’t been much of glory to speak of in the first place. That was, before Marian and he had put their backs into it, cleaned the place up and had made some drastic repairs. But the way the mansion looked now, at least the front, did let spring the words “recovered from near to death” to mind. Or perhaps “my home is my castle” did it more credit. He shook his head and wondered how much silver, or better gold, all the labour had cost. And more importantly: who had paid for it. He had a nasty suspicion the money had come from the coffers of the Merchants’ Guild. He had offered to pay the workers with his new found wealth, but Varric had frantically waved the suggestion into oblivion. ‘No need elf,’ he had stated boldly, ‘put your money to better use, this damage is covered. And, after all, it was not your fault the situation went violently and irrevocably boom.’ He had looked very cheeky at those words.

Fenris shivered, more at the present cold and less at the memory. Due to the warm, seemingly everlasting summer, he had forgotten _how_ cold it could get in these parts of the world. _Venhedis_. He was glad he had taken a fur lined cloak from Marian’s wardrobe, and pulled the garment closer around his frame. The morning chill seemed to creep into his bones. He sneezed and cursed again. _Not now._

At least he had taken his share in the toiling and it didn’t matter for what reason. Just as it didn’t matter, by the way, the reason had been double-sided. He had wanted to forestall a nasty catfight and at the same time had felt the urge to do his bit. Like he had said back then, it was _his_ mansion and he might have neglected the premises for a long time, he felt responsible for it. He could still feel the aching in his back, although Marian had given him a thorough massage after a long relaxing bath. A massage, uh, what the expression?, ah yes, a massage with a happy ending. She insisted it was one of the packages the Rose offered. _Just rumours_ , she had stated adamantly, _not something I personally experienced_. He smiled faintly at the memory. The umpteenth time they had made love.

It was hard to believe how much had occurred in such a short time. One day he was that brooding elf, commenting gruffly, or prickly, or not at all, to everything that happened around him and was said to him, with lots of issues haunting his every dream and, to be frank, most of his waking hours as well. The next he was the lover of the most beautiful and lovely and caring and understanding – though now and again off balance and too much acting on impulse (but was that not just one of the many reasons he loved her? Yes it was) woman he had ever met. And head over heels had fallen in love with, notwithstanding the fact he had feebly tried to deny it.  This brought up a sarcastic snort, deftly covered with another sneeze. Nowadays he felt completely content. Yes, contentment was a sentiment that had got the best of him of late. To his own astonishment. Or perhaps happiness was even a better word. He let out a small sigh. A – ah – contented sigh. And yet another sneeze.

He shifted his weight to his other foot and let his mind wander, randomly picking through the recent occurrences... He had learned his real name. That had been a shock, in all the possible meanings of the word. He had regularly flashes of his life before the markings happened, bright ones. But even so, he never had felt the panicky drive to leave Marian because of it anymore. Perhaps, in contrary, he wanted even more to stay with her because of those still fleeting but ever clearer popping up memories. Lingering memories. The puzzle was still mostly empty but he had seized some of the edges and even though the whole picture still was beyond his hold, he felt grateful he had those fragments. He was no longer a nickname; he was a person. A person with a given name. No longer a pet, leashed to a collar, leashed to a master. She had made it happen, involuntarily of course at the first time, but although it had made him greatly upset back then, he now could see she had given him a wonderful gift. The gift of his own identity. And that was the main part why he had stayed with her. She resembled his past and future all together.

And she had said and stated with emphasis she loved him. Without question. Even with his problematic past and all the troubles that came with it.

It was mesmerising.

This was one of the reasons why he had come here alone, so early in the morning, while Marian was still sleeping in their bed. _Their bed_. He smiled again. He screwed his eyes shut and let the words resonate in his head. _Their bed._ Still so hard to understand and to grasp. He wanted to think about everything that had happened to him, to them, while strolling around his old home. He wanted to walk through the mansion, through all the rooms he never had used, to stand in the one he had lived in for the past years, to mull over his old life and compare it to the new one he lived now. To definitively say goodbye to the old Fenris and welcome the new one. To say welcome to Leto. Although, honestly, he had still difficulties with that name, strange it might be. It had nothing to do with the absurd way he had learned about it. But Marian called him by his – old name. Slave name perhaps, collared name. For her those sour and dire attachments didn’t count. He could hear the echo of her voice, crying out his name – _Fenris!_ – in exaltation when she reached her completion, and he wouldn’t change that for the world. She was the one who had liberated his collared name; she was the one who had turned the slave Fenris into the free Fenris. Leto was a stranger he still didn’t know, however much he wanted to learn about him. About their mutual history. He knew by now his mother had long flowing red hair. That was a start and a thing to treasure.

He realised his thoughts started to become an incoherent rambling and snapped his eyes open. To his dismay he had to sneeze again. Time to get out of the morning chill.

-

He was about to finally push open the new door, when he got interrupted by a well known and not at all welcome voice. His hand faltered and he let out a deep sigh. _Does the dwarf ever sleep? Fasta vass! Why can’t he leave me in peace once in a while!_

Varric announced his appearance in his usual cheerful baritone and his usual come-what-may aplomb. ‘All on your own, elf?’ he asked innocently and at the same time with a hardly hidden curious note. ‘I thought you and Hawke were joined at the hip nowadays.’

Fenris rolled his eyes but decided at the same moment the dwarf wouldn’t get the chance to needle him. Not again and certainly not at this time; instead he would give him a taste of his own medicine. Without twitching a muscle he reacted drily, ‘Not exactly joined at the _hip_ , I would say.’ To his satisfaction it left Varric slack-jawed for a few precious moments and Fenris grinned inwardly, very pleased with this little, but nonetheless significant victory. If the grin had floated to the surface, Varric, without doubt, had categorised it under “The Mother of all Cynicism”.

‘Not only bearing a happy face but developing a sense of humour as well,’ the dwarf muttered resentfully after those very hard moments of silence. ‘This is getting tricky, if not alarming.’

‘Just so you know it,’ Fenris chortled darkly. He finally pushed the heavy door open, but on second thought stepped aside, and waved carelessly into the spacious new hall, inviting the dwarf to enter first; he trusted him as far as he could throw him. ‘Be my guest,’ he said light-heartedly, with a crooked smile.

Varric fired a sardonic glance at him. ‘Afraid for nasty surprises?’

‘With everything that has happened clearly in mind, I wouldn’t put it past you,’ Fenris replied unperturbed. ‘And you know how the saying goes: better to be safe than sorry.’

For a moment Varric contemplated to play the hurting party, but thought the better of it. Instead he beamed broadly. ‘Don’t worry, elf, we’re done in the damage-department. If only because Aveline would tear us apart.’

‘There could be traps,’ Fenris pointed out.

Varric grinned boyishly. ‘Lest you forgot, the whole accidently blowing up of this mansion started because of traps, or better because we couldn’t get access to set them. So we never got the chance to prepare something wickedly ingenious.’ He wrinkled his nose and sneezed loudly, much to Fenris’s surprise who looked at him with raised brows. ‘It’s the dust,’ Varric explained sniffing, wiping his nose. ‘It hasn’t settled yet after the rebuilding. Who’d have thought a few bricks, plaster and cement would cause such a dust cloud.’

Fenris cocked his head, feeling relieved. ‘And I thought I was coming down with a cold.’

Varric looked him up and down. ‘Dressed like that?! You’re kitted up like you’re about to face a polar winter!’

‘You’re shamelessly exaggerating, as always. And it can get dreadfully cold in Kirkwall,’ Fenris defensively put forward.

‘During the wintertime maybe!’ Varric cried out incredulously. ‘And even then only occasionally. And right now it’s still summer! This is Kirkwall! Not Ferelden!’

‘This morning was cold enough to put on a cloak,’ Fenris persisted stubbornly.

‘Have it your way,’ Varric said with a light wave of his hand. ‘What are you doing here anyway, at this hour? In this unbearable cold,’ he added sarcastically.

‘I could ask you the same question,’ Fenris parried.

‘Yes. I suppose you could.’ Frantically the dwarf raked his mind to come up with an explanation for his presence; no way in the world he would admit he was stalking the elf to find out what his, or Hawke’s, next move would be. ‘I came here to inspect the work that has been carried out,’ he said, attempting to mask the triumph over his ad hoc excuse. ‘To see if they delivered value for my, er, for their money.’

_So you_ _are_ _the mastermind behind the financing_ , Fenris thought, _just like I figured._ But he decided not to comment.

In the meantime Varric had entered the hallway. ‘How is Hawke doing by the way?’ he asked innocently.

‘She is perfectly fine,’ said Fenris while he followed the dwarf inside. ‘Why shouldn’t she be?’

Varric started meticulously tapping the wall between the hall and the parlour. ‘Well, she didn’t seem that fine the other night when –‘

‘She is perfectly fine now,’ Fenris interrupted him impatiently. ‘ _What are you doing_??’

Varric looked up, genuine amazement spread over his face. ‘Putting my dwarven expertise into practice, what else?’

Fenris opened his mouth, changed his mind and clicked his jaws shut at the same moment. ‘I don’t want to know,’ he mumbled and wandered off into the mansion.

-

When Varric returned home to his suite in the Hanged Man, he found a very upset Merrill waiting for him.

‘She doesn’t want to do it,’ the small elf wailed, near to tears.

Varric put the pitcher with ale he had taken with him upstairs on the table. ‘Calm down Daisy. Take a deep breath and start anew. Who doesn’t want to do what?’

‘The Keeper,’ Merrill snivelled. ‘She doesn’t want to perform the ritual. She says she doesn’t want to co-operate with a sham.’

‘A sham or a shem?’ said Varric before he could stop himself.

‘It’s not funny!’ Merrill cried and now the tears started to flow in earnest.

Varric walked over to the Dalish elf and put a comforting arm around her narrow shoulders. ‘It’s not that bad, Daisy, we can find another solution.’ Softly he squeezed her arm. Frankly, he didn’t comprehend her distress. He’d sooner expect her to be angry and annoyed by Marethari’s refusal, not completely desolated.

‘And Pahdell stayed behind,’ Merrill whined.

‘Who stayed – ah.’ Comprehension dawned. The sudden deluge wasn’t caused by a failed mission but by a broken heart. If the first love-affair was the most overwhelming, then the first heartache was certainly the worst. He sat down next to her. ‘Shall I make you a – er – cup of tea?’ he offered, meanwhile racking his mind about how to accomplish such a feat. He hadn’t produced a cup of tea in his entire life and doubted highly Corff had. He was quite certain there wouldn’t be a single tealeaf to be found in the Hanged Man.

‘Don’t bother,’ Merrill mumbled nasally, crossly rubbing at her damp cheeks. ‘I’d rather have a glass of rum.’

‘Uh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ Varric hesitantly said. ‘Remember what happened the last time you tried to drown your misery in alcohol?’

There appeared a dangerous glimmer in Merrill’s eyes. ‘I’m not trying to drown my misery, I’m trying to prevent myself from smashing everything into bits and pieces.’

Varric was already halfway his liquor-cabinet. He poured the Dalish elf a strong one and pushed the glass into her hands. ‘And we cannot have that, can we,’ he said with enforced cheerfulness.

‘No,’ Merrill grimly agreed and took a large gulp. ‘Can you believe it? No sooner had he seen the camp, or the jerk declared he wanted to become Dalish and the Keeper was all sweet and motherly around him, oozing understanding and acceptance.’

Varric strode, alright, scurried, into the corridor while Merrill kept on griping behind his back. _‘... and she never takes in strangers just like that. I bet she did it to pester me, to rub into my nose ..._ ’

‘Rivaini!’ he bellowed. ‘Get your lazy behind out of the sack, we have a problem!’

A few seconds later a very sleepy Isabela showed up in the door opening. ‘Huh?’

‘I’m afraid we turned Daisy into an alcoholic.’

Isabela scratched her head, making some kind of scarecrow wig of her already dishevelled hair. ‘And what is the problem?’

Varric threw her a dirty look but swallowed back the colourful insults his mind came up with. Instead he grabbed the pirate by the wrist and, cursing under his breath, dragged her into his suite. ‘The _second_ problem is the Keeper doesn’t want to have anything to do with our so smartly invented ritual. We have to come up with something different. Did you perchance think of a plan B?’

The pirate queen plopped down into a chair and yawned ostentatiously. ‘It’s far too early for a plan B, Varric.’ She frowned lightly. ‘What’s the matter Kitten? Got dumped?’

‘He’s an asshole,’ Merrill growled viciously, the rum already showing in her rosy cheeks and blunt language.

‘All men are assholes, sweetness,’ Isabela drawled, empathizing.

‘Hey!’ Varric flew up but Isabela beat him with a sugary smile. ‘Except for you of course.’ She indicated the by now half empty glass Merrill was clutching as if her life depended upon it. ‘Any chance there’s more where that came from? It’s hard to think clearly without a sip or two in the early morning. Let alone about alphabetically organized plans.’

And so Varric was forced to sacrifice another measure of his rum. ‘I was thinking,’ he said pensively, ‘since you’re a captain, Rivaini, perhaps you can marry our celebrated couple.’

Isabela reacted as if a bucket with ice water got emptied over her head. She bolted up right and spluttered a generous mouthful of alcohol over the surface of the table. ‘Oh no!’ she shrieked. ‘No no no no no no!! You know my feelings about marriages! I’m still all too happy I have escaped the one I was entangled in myself! Not even at knifepoint I will commit such a disgusting act! Do it yourself!’

‘I don’t have the authority,’ Varric protested helplessly.

The pirate queen jutted her chin out. ‘And neither have I. Not without a ship. Find another idiot.’

‘The only other idiot available is Sebastian. And he is out of the question, since Hawke doesn’t accept him because of his Chantry commitment.’ Wearily Varric rubbed his brow. This was getting too much for one morning.

‘Well, good for her,’ Isabela snarled. ‘And I think you will sooner persuade her than me.’ With a fierce bang she flung her empty glass on the table. ‘And if you don’t mind, I’m going back to my room, before the candy in my bed has taken his leave.’ She slammed the door shut behind her back.

Defeated Varric leaned back in his chair. ´So far for Plan B,´ he groused.

Merrill looked up, to the dwarf´s dread already a little hazily. ‘Become a Dalish,´ she grumbled, ´yeah right. All roses and butterflies, until you get so-called ideas above your station.´

Varric groaned. He stood up, took the elf by an arm and resolutely started to navigate her to the door. ´Let´s get you home before another disaster happens.´

And, who knew, some brilliant brainwave would hit him during the walk to and from the Alienage.

-

Hawke woke up alone, but before panic even got the chance to kick in, she found the note Fenris had left on his pillow, explaining he would be back shortly.

‘Hm,’ she ruminated disappointed, ‘I liked the rose petals better.’ But, then again, there was work to do. Traps usually didn’t spring themselves. ‘Come on, boy,’ she said to her dog, that had made its way into the bedroom after Fenris had left. ‘Let’s grab some breakfast and then I go to the Keep. And no, you cannot come with me.’ Tempest gave her the classic look of the hurt puppy and reinforced his act with a convincing pitiful whine. ‘You know that normally I don’t mind the snooty nobles and officials turn their noses at me and call me Doglord, and even less you scare the living daylight out of them, but today I must be on my best behavior. And since you don’t _have_ a best behavior, you stay at home. But I promise I will take you out for a long walk later. Maybe we can chase some rabbits along the Wounded Coast together.’

Tempest let out a happy bark and followed her downstairs.

-

After Varric had left the mansion, and had taken his sorry excuse for his presence with him, Fenris had started with thoroughly searching all the rooms. Every once in a while he uttered a soft curse. Some in the common tongue, most in Tevene. (He might despise the Imperium and everything connected to it, even he had to admit that in no language you could curse better that in the Tevinter one.) He knew he had seen it somewhere, but this blasted mansion had so many blasted rooms, and he couldn’t remember where he had come across the item. Yes, one of the reasons he had come here this morning, was to think about his life in an attempt to list all the recent events. Or better: to reflect on the unexpected turns his life had taken of late.

The other one was to find what he considered a perfect gift. Perhaps a cancelled, or postponed, wedding was not the best occasion to offer a present, but this idea had come up when he still thought they were married. Stupid he hadn’t thought of it before. He was positive Marian would appreciate this more than whatever ring he would buy her.

 He had almost given up when he, to his great relief, finally found it.

Oh yes, she would love this.

He closed the mansion and hurried back to the Amell Estate.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Merrill, first love, first heartache. But things will change...
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	17. Chapter 17

Part 20

-

Mirror mirror on the wall ... or rather, on the desk... Confused? Read and find out.

Enjoy!

-

Just before midday Hawke walked out of the office of the Viscount, with the pleased expression of a cat treasuring a stolen bowl of cream plastered on her face. She sauntered down the stairs into the Barracks and threw the door to Aveline’s domain wide open. She stopped dead on the threshold.

The Guard Captain, for the moment blissfully oblivious of Hawke’s presence, had propped up her bright shining shield against a stack of books on her desk and was studying herself intensely in the reflection. She looked very critically at what she saw. She pushed her headband a millimetre down, and back up again, altered something unnoticeable about her hair, pinched her cheeks, wriggled her eyebrows, with the thumbs and index fingers from each hand stretched the skin below her eyes, tried out a smile that resembled a hysterical grimace at best, and finally let out a deep, deep sigh.

‘I never took you for the vain sort of people,’ Hawke chimed, after she had observed the bizarre, somewhat unsettling, scene with rising amazement.

The effect was disastrous.

Aveline let out a terrified shriek. She stumbled backwards, made an ineffective attempt at holding on to the desk and tumbled over her chair that, under the weight of her armour, agonizingly slow but with inevitable certainty fell over. She landed, with a series of metallic clanks, in a heap against the bookcase that dangerously started to wobble. A few volumes came crashing down and hit her unprotected head. The shield on the desk slipped and fell with a loud _booiiing_ on her with steel clad legs, taking with it the just filled inkpot and a shower of papers. And the stack of books collapsed to happily add to the chaos.

It took Hawke quite a while to excavate her friend. Especially because said friend wasn’t very cooperative. ‘You, you,’ Aveline screamed, ‘you _horrible_ person!’

‘You should work on your obscenities,’ Hawke offered her some good advice, when she had finally managed to pull Aveline out of the debris. ‘This is even worse than “shut up whore”.’

‘What are you doing here?’ Aveline breathlessly demanded to know. She had a nasty bruise on her brow where a particularly vicious book had hit her ( _I hope it was The Complete People’s Laws of Kirkwall_ , Hawke couldn’t help thinking menacingly), her headband had slipped and covered one of her eyes, giving her the look of a scowling but law abiding pirate, which was more than hilarious, and her armour was dripping with ink. A few drops had splattered around, and now dusted the pale skin of her features like black freckles. Adding to the brown ones already existing aplenty.

With all her might Hawke tried to keep a straight face. ‘I came from a tête-à-tête with the Viscount, and I thought it would be nice to pay my eldest friend a visit,’ she explained. ‘If that makes me a horrible person, so be it. The more pressing question is: what the hell were you doing?’

For the second time Aveline let out a desperate sigh. She more or less readjusted her headband and started to randomly pick up some of the papers that lay strewn around on the floor. She changed her mind halfway that hopeless task and instead sank heavily down in the chair Hawke had erected. ‘Am I still attractive?’

Confused Hawke furrowed her brows. ‘What are you talking about?’

Aveline shrugged and she looked so forlorn that Hawke almost felt the urge to take her into a comforting embrace. She would have done, if not for the fear she would get her arm bitten off. ‘I’m not getting any younger,’ the Guard Captain complained. ‘This morning I discovered a grey hair. It made me realise the years are showing.’

‘You make it sound as if you’re approaching the dotage age,’ said Hawke with a light frown. ‘Don’t be daft, you silly goose. You’re still a formidable woman.’ She lowered herself on a corner of the desk and wondered why her friend made such a fuss about her appearance. She had never done so before.

‘The same can be said of the Grand Cleric,’ Aveline sneered, heatedly. ‘Formidable is not important right now. The point is, am I still attractive?’ Marian stared dumbly at her, but then a suspicion began to rise. ‘I am not, am I?’ Aveline went on, sounding wretched. ‘You can say it straight into my face: I’m shrivelling and wrinkling and greying, and –‘

‘Who is he?’ Hawke interrupted her friend’s torrent of self-pity.

The Guard Captain fell abruptly silent. She stuck out her chin and grumbled through her teeth, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I’m sure you don’t,’ Hawke replied, cheerily. ‘So come out with it. I’ll guarantee you it’ll make you feel better.’

‘You can’t tell anyone,’ Aveline pressed, panic suddenly showing on her face. ‘Especially not the pirate wench!’

‘I would be shocked if she doesn’t know already,’ Marian said. _And why didn’t_ I _know_ , she thought in the meantime, _apparently I’ve been too absorbed with too many other issues, to miss this fun. Shame on me_.

Aveline’s face contorted and she groaned. Loudly. ‘She has her suspicions.’

‘Of course she has.’

‘But she doesn’t know for certain. So keep your mouth shut. Promise me!’

‘Yes, yes, I promise.’ Hawke was growing impatient. ‘Now tell me!’

Aveline deflated somewhat and dropped her hands in her lap. ‘It’s Donnic,’ she mumbled, flushing crimson the moment she mentioned the name.

‘Donnic? As in “Donnic the bloke we pulled out of a trap in Lowtown” Donnic?’ Hawke’s face split into a huge beam. ‘Owe, it was a honey trap!’ she cooed excited. ‘I already thought the alley was buzzing with expectations! When are you going to ask him out?’

‘Probably never,’ Aveline sourly groused. ‘And keep your voice down. The whole of Kirkwall can hear you shout.’

Hawke ignored that last part. ‘Why not?’ she asked, genuinely astounded.

‘Because, obviously, not everyone is gifted with your charming wits,’ said Aveline, pretty irritably.

Before Hawke got the chance to react, a knock sounded on the door and a concerned voice rang out. ‘Captain, are you all right? I heard a noise coming from – what happened here?!’

Aveline froze.

Hawke turned her head to see Aveline’s very cause of her uncharacteristic nerves standing in the door opening, staring with wide opened eyes at the bedlam his Captain’s tripping over the chair had caused. She grinned inwardly; oh, this was too good an opportunity to squander! Sweet revenge was beckoning, or, even better, frantically gesticulating with both arms. So she said amicably, ‘Donnic! Just the one we need.’ Aveline made a choking sound, but Marian paid it no attention whatsoever.

‘Eh, me..?’ Donnic said hesitantly. His eyes darted nervously from one woman to the other.

‘Exactly the right person,’ Hawke merrily insisted. She airily waved in the direction of her friend, who sat as rigid as a statue behind her desk, clutching the edge with both hands, as if it were a lifebelt or her last line of defence. ‘Your Captain has got the idiotic idea in her head that she’s lost her youth, and with it her desirability. Do us all a favour and tell her that’s rubbish, before she starts to wear one of those ridiculous Orlesian masks.’ Her whole face radiated mischief. ‘Unless, of course, you’re of another opinion.’

‘I will kill you,’ Aveline hissed.

Donnic grasped the opportunity to take a good look at his superior. Her headband still hung somewhat askew over her brow, her hair was a mess, her face was dotted with little dark specks and she was blushing so profoundly that she was in serious danger of spontaneous combustion. He thought she looked adorable. ‘I, er.’ Awkwardly he cleared his throat. ‘I don’t think a mask is necessary,’ he concluded.

‘That was a smooth compliment if I ever heard one.’ Hawke’s voice dripped with sarcasm and the Guard Captain looked like the perfect example of complete and utter desolation. With more than a hint at slow and gruesome murder in her eyes.

Donnic coughed again and mustered his courage. ‘That’s because you didn’t let me finish.’ He stepped inside the office and fired his most captivating smile at his flustered Captain. The danger of combustion came even closer. ‘I think you’re an amazing woman, and very good-looking, too.’

‘Great!’ Hawke said, brightly. ‘That wasn’t so hard after all, was it.’ She hopped off the desk and made her way to the door. ‘I’ll take my leave now, I’m certain you two will sort it out without further assistance. See you, Aveline. Be brave.’ She winked at Donnic when she passed him. ‘Buy the girl a drink. I think she needs one.’ In a stage whisper she let follow, ‘Be gentle with her, she’s a bit rusty.’ Delicately she closed the door behind her back before she started to laugh wholeheartedly.

The silence she left behind was ear deafening.

Donnic chewed on a few remarks but his Captain beat him to it.

‘I am so sorry,’ Aveline croaked, thankful that her voice still operated. She didn’t dare look at Donnic who, at this awful moment, presented more her love interest than her subordinate. She was too afraid what she might find.

‘Don’t be,’ Donnic responded with a little chuckle. In fact, the last aside Hawke had dropped, had strengthened his confidence. ‘You know what? I’ll help you clean up the place, you can clean up yourself, and after that you can tell me what precisely happened, over a few drinks. My treat.’

Aveline’s smile was so brittle, it might actually crack. ‘I’d like that,’ she managed and felt three inches high. She tried to find back the shards of her shattered dignity by straightening her shoulders. ‘But not the Hanged Man,’ she said with some of her old fire. ‘Everywhere but the Hanged Man.’

-

Varric was anxiously pacing his suite, all the while racking his head for a wedding solution. He had promised Hawke the pomp and circumstance, complete with the pretty dress and the lovely, mysterious Elvhen rituals. He had even been willing to shed a few emotional tears for her benefit. He had never reckoned Marethari would bluntly refuse. ‘I never should have sent Merrill,’ he muttered. ‘Or at least I should have gone with her. Of course she lost it when what’s-his-name stood her up on the spot.’ Perhaps he could try to bribe the Keeper, but for several reasons she didn’t strike him as a corruptible person. And what had a dwarf to offer that a Dalish elf possibly could desire? Money? Very unlikely. In fact, the only thing he could come up with were halla. But even he, with all his connections, hadn’t the slightest clue how or where to obtain a herd of those animals. No, the Dalish had been a good idea, till the moment they weren’t anymore. So who, in the name of all the numerous Ancestors, could perform the ceremony?

Isabela stuck her head around his door. ‘Still mulling over plan B?’ she informed cheerfully.

‘The non-existent plan B,’ Varric grumbled. ‘Unless you’ve come up with something brilliant during your, er, morning exercises.’

The pirate queen entered the room and, to Varric’s relief, she brought a pitcher with ale along. ‘Have you considered the consequences?’ she asked while she placed the jug on the table.

‘Have we even considered the _meaning_ of the word?’ Varric parried, mordantly. ‘And since when do you bother with consequences?’

‘If we don’t succeed in getting them married, one way or another, they will live on with the illusion they are husband and wife.’

So?’ said Varric who didn’t see the gravity of that particular problem.

Isabela poured two mugs with ale. ‘Imagine that one day they will get children.’ Her nose crunched with disgust at the sheer idea. ‘Or there will be a case of, oh I don’t know, an inheritance or some other money related issue. Something that requires official papers and the presence of lawyers. You know how cheeky those buggers are. Sooner or later they will find out. Are you willing to leave Kirkwall in a rush to avoid an attempt on your life?’ She sat down and rested her feet on the tabletop. She wiggled her eyebrows at Varric, to let him know she wasn’t really serious and was just trying to work him up. She succeeded far better than she had anticipated.

The dwarf downed half of the contents of his mug in one go. ‘It seems I’m losing my touch,’ he muttered wearily. ‘That horror scenario hadn’t yet crossed my mind.’

‘If everything else fails, we can always steal a ship and I can make you my first mate,’ Isabela suggested optimistically.

Varric didn’t deign to answer that; he just shot her a dark scowl. He rested his hand against the liquor-cabinet and glumly stared into the ever crackling fire in his hearth. ‘I followed Fenris this morning,’ he said pensively. ‘I thought he was up to something, but as it turned out he just made some kind of sentimental journey to his mansion. That is, as far as I could conclude.’

‘Why Fenris? I’m pretty certain Hawke is the evil genius behind all their pranks.’

But Varric shook his head. ‘I’m not so sure. There’s more to the elf than meets the eye. He’s a complicated package, that one.’

‘A very yummy package,’ said Isabela; her look automatically clicked fast in the sultry mode.

Varric chose to ignore that as well. ‘For instance, we all know he can glow like a beacon, when angry or agitated or in the middle of a fight,’ he continued, unperturbed. ‘But who had ever thought he could glow with happiness?’ He abandoned the cabinet, made a hesitant step, stopped and started staring at the wall carving without truly seeing anything of its beauty and craftsmanship.  He said, ruminating, ‘I’m convinced that somewhere under all that glowing, he hides a malicious streak.’ Absent-mindedly he scratched his chest hair. ‘I have a – hunch that something dreadful is about to happen.’

‘Like what?’ scoffed Isabela. She thought the dwarf was hopelessly overreacting.

‘I don’t know, but I can feel it in my bo–‘

‘Stones!’ Isabella triumphantly exclaimed and went into a fit of laughter.

Varric glared poisoned daggers at her. He slammed his mug on the table, turned abruptly and left the room. ‘Thanks for the help,’ he angrily yelled over his shoulder. ‘I’m going to tell the happy couple the wedding on Sundermount is off. Maybe _they_ will come up with something constructive.’

‘Like banging you over the head with Bianca!’ Isabela shouted gleefully after him. She leaned comfortably back in her chair and took a sip of her ale. She didn’t understand what Varric was fretting about. ‘Hunch!’ she mocked. ‘More likely a troubled conscience. Old softy.’

Varric was still cursing under his breath when he reached the Hightown Market.

-

Hawke came home in a jolly mood and found Fenris standing at the counter in the kitchen, eating a bread roll with cured ham. Tempest was crouching at his feet, begging for scraps and playing the obedient dog for a change. ‘You’re looking pleased,’ the elf greeted her. ‘I take it your conversation with the Viscount went as planned?’

‘It went perfectly well,’ Marian beamed. ‘He is willing to cooperate, although I suspect he didn’t half understand what it was all about. And there live creatures on the bottom of the sea that have a better sense of humour than he has, but that probably only helped the case. And you’re spoiling my dog.’

Fenris dropped another piece of ham that Tempest deftly caught between his jaws. ‘I don’t think that is technically possible,’ he drily observed. ‘You already did the best part of that job.’

Hawke put her arms around his waist and in the movement stole a bite from his bread roll. ‘I plead guilty,’ she mumbled with her mouth full. ‘This would taste better with a lick of mustard.’

‘Suit yourself,’ said Fenris, pointing at the larder.

But Hawke decided she’d rather stayed snuggled against his body. She rubbed her nose against the skin of his neck. ‘And then I went and performed an act of charity,’ she declared solemnly.

‘What?’ Fenris reacted, slightly bemused.

Hawke fluttered her hand and swallowed her bite. ‘That can wait. First tell me what you were up to this morning. Must have been something important, to leave me all lonesome and cold in our bed.’

‘It _was_ important,’ Fenris affirmed. ‘As a matter of fact, I have something for you. A present.’

‘Really?’ Hawke heaved her head in surprise. ‘A present? What did I do to deserve that?’

‘Do you have a minute or two?’ Fenris smirked. ‘It’s quite a long list.’

Hawke nearly blushed. She planted a wet kiss on his skin and he had to back down a pleasant shiver. ‘Flatterer,’ she as good as giggled. ‘I bet there are scores of character flaws you’d rather not add to that list of yours.’

He took her hand and led her out of the kitchen, through the dining room and into the library. ‘Well, now you mention it... Your persistent urge to frolic is rather disturbing. As is your tendency to act like a squirrel.’

‘See!’ Hawke grinned with a broad smile. ‘That’s a good start. I bet you will think of plenty more if you put your back into it. Although I thought you rather liked the frolicking part.’

‘Like I pointed out before, it turned out less dreadful than I had feared beforehand, I’ll give you that.’ They had reached the library and Fenris let go of her hand. ‘Wait here,’ he said and walked over to the desk. He rummaged in the drawer and retrieved an almost square, heavy looking parcel, wrapped in plain paper that looked suspiciously like the cheep exemplars they had used for his writing lessons. (It had been the best Fenris had been able to find, given the short time that had been available.) He handed it to Hawke who took it and removed the cover.

She stared at the result and after that at him. ‘It ... it’s a book,’ she said, hardly able to stifle a laugh.

‘Yes. Very funny, Marian. I should have known you’d say that. Are you going to tell me you can’t read next? That would be a pity because I turned the mansion upside down to find this. As you can see, since I am pretty sure your eyesight still works fine,’ (at this he glared viciously at her) ‘it’s The Legend of Calenhad. A while ago you said this was one of your favourite books, but you were forced to leave your copy behind in Lothering.’

Hawke bit her lip and carefully laid the book on the table next to the sofa. ‘I can’t believe you remembered that.’

‘Of course I did. My memory may still not operate as it should, but my brain is very well capable of storing information.’ He sounded a little surly, but that was soon remedied when, not a moment later, Marian almost smothered him in a firm embrace.

‘Thank you so much,’ she said, hoarsely and moved to tears. ‘I’m sorry I teased you, you didn’t deserve that. This is the most wonderful gift you could have given me. Besides yourself, obviously.’

Fenris chuckled softly and tenderly brushed her brow with his lips. ‘I thought it could serve as some kind of engagement present. We decided not to get married right now, but there was some kind of promise – ‘

She interrupted him with such a heated kiss it left him shuddering and wanting. He almost staggered back when she broke the kiss and he wasn’t able to react. ‘You really do want to marry me, somewhere in the future?’

‘I thought we already decided on that,’ he murmured, rather bewildered. ‘I hope you didn’t think I wasn’t serious.’

She let go of him. ‘Wait here, please,’ was all she said before she darted out of the room, rendering him completely stunned. Only now she realised that, somewhere in an unconfident corner of her mind, she really had been wondering if he had meant that promise seriously. But now that nagging small splinter of doubt had melted away. And she wanted to give him something similar significant in return.

In her haste she stumbled over Tempest, that had taken position at the bottom of the stairs, but she managed to make it to her mother’s former bedroom in one piece. She didn’t need much time to find what she was looking for; her mother’s belongings were still in place. It took her but a minute to get back to the library.

Fenris noticed there was a red item dangling from her fingers. ‘This,’ she said, swallowing down a lump in her throat, ‘was Mother’s favourite hair ribbon. I know that because she wore it all the time. I believe Father once gave it to her.’ She looked pleadingly at him. ‘You would honour me, and her remembrance, if you agree to wear it.’

Not capable of finding something to say at this startling grave moment, Fenris tentatively stretched out his hand to her and she took the opportunity to grab his wrist and tie the ribbon around it. She gave him a fragile, though shining smile. ‘I gather we are properly engaged by now.’

Still speechless, Fenris pulled her into his arms. He translated his gratitude and swelling emotions into slanting his lips over hers and kissing her passionately.

They got interrupted by Bodahn, who hesitated a moment at the scene that took place before his very eyes. But he got nudged on by an impatient hand, pushing him forward. ‘There is a visitor for you, Messeres,’ he announced, feeling rather crossed about the behaviour of the unexpected intruder.

Marian and Fenris turned at the sound of his voice. To their amazement Varric entered, with a face as if he was about to attend a funeral. That foreboded nothing good.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked my version of the hilarious Aveline/Donnic story. More will follow, of course.
> 
> Anyway, thank you all so much for staying with me along this now and again bumpy road!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning in advance: it will get juicy. And not because of the obvious couple this time.
> 
> Enjoy!

It started with a Kiss part 21

-

Varric, in the story that was supposed to last four or five chapters and is completely getting away with me, is having a hard time. Someone else, on the other hand, is having the revelation of his life.

-

Sebastian pushed the chair under the opened window that was set high in the wall of his cell and cautiously tested its strength. When it looked like the rickety piece of furniture would hold his weight, he climbed on it and pulled himself up on the windowsill. From his crouching position he meticulously scanned the Chantry garden, that stretched out under him, for whatever unwanted presence. Which included any presence of any living creature. Especially under the age of twelve. As he had already suspected, and mostly had hoped for, the area was deserted since everyone, except for him, was gathered in the refectory for lunch. So he deemed it safe enough to enter the garden and he let himself drop on the balcony below him. This was the tricky part, for the adjacent room was the study of the Grand Cleric, but he was as good as certain neither she nor her personal secretary were present at the moment. As fast as was wise, he clambered over the parapet and jumped down; with a little grunt he landed in one of the many flowerbeds. Stealthily he tiptoed through the impatiens, oleanders, geraniums and fuchsias, staying as close to the wall as possible without crushing too many flowers. The gardener would undoubtedly curse like a heathen when he discovered the damage, but right now he couldn’t care less. He just sought a way out.

 _So it has come to this,_ he thought gloomily _, I have to skip lunch, and steal out of the Chantry through the garden like some kind of common thief to avoid Geofride the Horrible and to get some peace and quiet_.

‘Oh Sebastian! Have you come to visit the garden too? It’s so beautiful here!’

He started so violently that he involuntarily launched himself. He sprained his ankle after a giant misstep and made a nosedive into a nearby lavender shrubbery. While he scrambled onto his feet with the intention to make a beeline for the gate, limping if need be, he saw Merrill emerge from behind a cherry tree.

‘What are _you_ doing here?!’ he wheezed breathlessly, despite everything thankful it was her and not one of the Ghastly Gang. _I should stop thinking about them in this way,_ he chastised himself _, but, Maker, it’s easier to enter a battle against a horde of Qunari than to fight that lot._

‘I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!’ the small elf squeaked while she hurried to his rescue. ‘But Varric said I shouldn’t visit the Viscount’s gardens anymore, what with all the crossed guards glowering at me, and here are no guards and I really, really needed the comfort of some flowers after all that’s happened,’ she babbled nervously. ‘Are you hurt? Perhaps we can find some arnica or comfrey, it helps to decrease the swelling. Do they grow herbs in this garden? They should, shouldn’t they? There is an infirmary in the Chantry, isn’t there? They need the healing herbs.’

Sebastian thought that the upcoming headache, caused by the avalanche of words, was worse than the pain in his ankle. ‘Please stop rambling,’ he begged, ‘before my head explodes.’ He rubbed his sore joint.

Merrill helped him up and assisted him to a nearby bench where they both sat down.

‘At least I smell nice, after the collision with the lavender,’ Sebastian remarked sarcastically.

‘Oh yes, lavender smells very nice,’ Merrill agreed in her own gibbering way. ‘I should pick some twigs to put between my clothes. Or just in the cupboard; it can smell so mouldy in my place. I think it’s the persistent damp. Perhaps it will even chase the rats away. The lavender, I mean, not the damp. I fear they get attracted by it. The damp, that is. Or maybe I should try rosemary or chives. Although I’d better put those in a stew...’

‘Merrill...’ Sebastian desperately groaned. _Maker, deliver me from this ordeal_ , he prayed silently. His head spun and his ankle throbbed and the elf’s high panicky voice penetrating his brain didn’t do much to sooth his anxiety. Although the soft feminine touch of her hand suddenly did strange things to said brain, and not only his brain – He disregarded that immediately.

Resigned he awaited the invasion of the orphans and the Righteous Cardigan because he knew the whole bunch would be let loose into the garden after lunch. To play tag or hide and seek or beat each other senseless, or any other old game to blow off steam before the lessons would recommence. ‘What were you doing here, all alone?’ he heard Merrill ask. It stopped his drifting thoughts and brought him back to the here and now. He looked a bit ashamed.

‘Trying to avoid the attention of the children,’ he confessed.

‘Why?’ asked Merrill with a little frown. ‘Children are a bundle of joy. At least, that’s what the Keeper used to say,’ she added, conscientiously. ‘I wouldn’t know myself.’ Just the mentioning of the word “Keeper” made her annoyance flare up again.

‘Your Keeper sounds a lot like the Grand Cleric,’ Sebastian grumbled sullenly. And precisely at that moment he felt Merrill’s nose sniffing at his neck.

‘Lavender,’ she murmured and her breath tickled his skin. It shot a long ignored and almost forgotten flaming arrow of hot desire through his body. ‘Nothing like the scent of lavender to let your anger melt away.’ Accidently, or perhaps not, her lips softly grazed the spot behind his ear.

Without thinking, letting his primal instincts take over, he twisted his head and kissed her. She let out a little gasp of surprise and after just a splinter of hesitation kissed him back. Within mere moments they turned into a flurry of entwining tongues, grasping hands and interweaving limbs, panting and moaning at every heated contact. He felt his cock grow hard and his arousal build fast and when her fingers touched him through the fabric of his pants, he had to bite his lip forcefully to prevent he’d go off like a firecracker.

‘Ooooo!! Bror Sebas is snogging!! With a girl!!!!’

The excited howls were the equivalent of a bucket with ice water and at once he realised what he was doing. And where. And with whom. Abruptly, his face beet red, he jumped up, grabbed Merrill by the wrist and without further ado, ignoring his still aching ankle, dragged the befuddled elf along the garden and through the gate. He came to a halt against a brick wall in the alley behind the Chantry and Merrill bumped into him. Automatically, and certainly without thinking, he closed her in his arms. ‘I’m sorry,’ he croaked, ‘I don’t know what came over me.’

She looked up with large glistening eyes. ‘I do,’ she merrily said. ‘The snapping of years of suppressed sexual tension. And, believe me, I know what I’m talking about.’ She smirked cheekily and went on, ‘You know, I never understood why the Chantry insists on continence. I mean, Andraste herself wasn’t exactly a virgin, was she? She was married and had children and some sources even claim she took Shartan as a lover.’ She tilted her head and looked pensively. ‘Mostly Elven sources, come to think about it.’ The smile took over once more. ‘So why is sex forbidden among your people? It must create lots of unwanted stress.’

With a well meant groan Sebastian leant his head back against the wall. ‘Please, Merrill, don’t make this any harder.’ Her naughty giggle, splashing over him like the drops of a sweet waterfall, made him apprehend that this hadn’t exactly been the right choice of words. Despite the awkward situation, he suddenly had to laugh himself. He embraced her firmer and rested his cheek on her hair. ‘Oh Maker, I’ll never hear the end of this. I don’t even want to know what Elthina’s reaction will be. Or worse, what Geofride will think up to make my life a living hell.’

Gently Merrill patted his back. ‘Let’s go to my place,’ she suggested. ‘I will make you a nice cup of tea. Or, if you like something stronger, I believe I have a bottle of elderberry wine somewhere lying about. No hanky-panky. I promise.’

Sebastian heaved his head and gave her wan smile. ‘With your fingers crossed behind your back, I wager.’ He planted a soft kiss on her brow. ‘Alright, I accept your offer. I think it’s better not to show my face in the Chantry for a while, anyhow.’

Stilled dazed he took her hand and together they wandered off to the Alienage.

-

Somewhere else in Kirkwall, Varric was struggling with his own problems. After Bodahn had announced his arrival, he had valiantly stepped into the library and had said, ‘There’s no easy way to tell you this, so I won’t beat about the bush.’ Despite his worked-up courage, he had, after his bold words, fallen silent under the twofold piercing glares that had come his way. It was obvious Hawke and Fenris had been in the middle of something important, whatever it might be, and weren’t particularly overjoyed with the interruption.

‘Well,’ Hawke now said, more than a little irritated. ‘Spit it out then. Has the Hanged Man burned down? Is Bianca terminally ill? Has Isabela decided to stay chaste for the rest of her life? Whatever it is, I can take it. I’m dying to hear your bad news.’

Varric took a breath and decided stalling was not an option. ‘Marethari refuses to perform the ritual,’ he thus blurted, taut as a lute string and prepared to receive a furious scolding, at the least.

A strained silence descended after his revelation. Hawke cleared her throat and to Varric it sounded like a peal of threatening thunder. But all she said was, ‘Right. And what now?’

 _It seems she’s not out for blood – yet. Count your blessings,_ Varric thought. He put up his brightest face. ‘I hoped we could work this out together. As a team,’ he said. _And preferably without broken bones. Or shattered glassware._

Hawke gestured at the sofa. ‘Let’s take a seat. Bodahn, would you be so kind as to bring us a bottle of wine?’

With a huff the steward disappeared to turn back, not a minute later, with the asked for item. Plus three glasses.

‘Perhaps it surprises you, but Fenris and I already have considered this outcome,’ Hawke said, while she filled the glasses. ‘Marethari never struck me as the accommodating type, no matter with how much respect she always treated us.’ 

‘So,’ Varric said tentatively, ‘did you come up with a solution?’

Hawke shot him a radiant beam. ‘As a matter of fact, we did.’ She handed him a glass that he wordlessly accepted, eager to learn more. She sat down and continued, ‘Fenris and I thought it a far-fetched idea anyway. I’m not elven and Fenris may be an elf from the top of his head all the way down to his little toe, but he feels no connection with the Dalish whatsoever.’ She hastened to add, when she saw the dwarf’s hurt expression, ‘It was a good idea, let there be no doubt about that. And I specifically liked the image of the lovely dress and the blooming flowers in the picturesque environment of Sundermount. An image like a fairytale. But that’s the problem: it would have been a fairytale. The ceremony wouldn’t have had any link with everyday life. And, I hate to break the news to you, but that’s just how it is. Real life. No fairytale. No Swords and Shields.’ She smiled heartening.

Carefully Varric sipped from his wine. ‘I take it you thought of something entirely different..?’

‘The Keep,’ Fenris made his modest but significant contribution.

Slowly Varric put the glass on the side table in an effort to buy some time to ingest the two impassively uttered words. It didn’t help. ‘Pardon me?’

‘What my husband attempts to make clear,’ said Hawke, straight-faced, ‘is that we will have a simple ceremony in the office of the Viscount. Under the supervision of said Viscount himself and this time with his genuine signature, written with all of us present and for all of us to see, under the formal text. We’ve already spoken it through with him and he has agreed. The ceremony will take place the day after tomorrow. And we both would very much like it if you and Isabela would accept the honour of being the official witnesses.’

Varric stayed perfectly still for a few moments. A persistent voice at the background of his industriously working mind kept grinding that this was some kind of trap, but, with all the best of will, he couldn’t think of what kind of trap precisely. ‘Why us?’ was the best he could produce. Rather lamely.

Hawke’s smile was sweeter than honey. ‘Because you are our best friends.’

‘Why not Aveline? She’s practically your sister!’ Varric recognized he sounded as if he was trying to find a way out, which was pretty much the truth, and the worst part was, he didn’t have a clue about out of what.

‘That’s true,’ Hawke nodded gravely. ‘But she will be too busy with overseeing the Guard of Honour.’

At this, Fenris found himself having major troubles with smothering an upcoming hearty laugh. Only Marian’s fingers pinching his knee withheld him from bursting into loud and public amusement.

‘Not that we want any of that kind of nonsense, of course, but she insists,’ Hawke went on, always with that godsdamned calm, near serene, expression. ‘And you know as well as we do, you better not thwart her.’ She persisted in her honeyed smile.

Varric felt more uncomfortable by the minute. He didn’t trust her smile, he didn’t trust the elf’s unperturbed face, he didn’t trust any of the words that were spoken. But he couldn’t put his finger on whatever sore spot there would be, even though all his senses screamed this was the final and utter payback. He came no further than a weakly spoken, ‘Does Rivaini know?’

‘No,’ Hawke said, ‘but we intend to ask her tonight, and we won’t take “no” for an answer. She won’t object.’

‘I already figured that,’ Varric mumbled, defeated, although he didn’t know what kind of battle he had been fighting. And losing. He drank the last of the excellent wine and rose from the sofa. ‘I, er,’ he stuttered, ‘I have some business to tend to. See you tonight, I suppose.’ And again he got enveloped in Hawke’s far too sugary smile. He fervently wished he’d know what she was up to, but he couldn’t think of anything disastrous. _Perhaps I’m developing some kind of nasty paranoia_ , he thought reluctantly, _and am I just fooling myself._ But he couldn’t shake off the feeling he was walking into a trap with open eyes.

-

Fenris managed to hold back his mirth until the front door clicked shut. After that he burst into an uncharacteristically fit of laughter, if only to wipe away the strange tension that had hung in the room during the dwarf’s visit.

‘And you thought you played your best role in the Hanged Man? I admit I wasn’t there to admire that particular part, but nevertheless I deem this was you best performance ever!’

Hawke grinned gleefully. ‘According to the dwarf’s worried expression, I think he suspects something awful. And, oh, how he’s right!’

‘You should keep Aveline out off his path, before he starts to ask tricky questions.’

Marian’s grin widened. ‘I think that specific obstacle is efficiently tackled. The name’s Donnic. The scene: a wrecked Captain’s office, holding two people worked up like a couple of teenagers in heat. I reckon they won’t be able to speak coherently for quite a while. Let alone allow Varric to interrogate them.’

Fenris stunned look was priceless. ‘Meaning..?’ he finally managed.

‘Ah, yes, I haven’t yet had the chance to tell you about that. Let me refill your glass. You’re going to like this.’

-

Only much later Varric wondered why Hawke and Fenris had insisted on a ceremony in the Keep. It didn’t make any sense at all. Why drag the Viscount into their affairs? He knew for certain Hawke despised the man as much as she did the Chantry. But by then it was already too late to turn the tables.

-

Merrill lifted her hips to drive his fiercely pounding cock deeper inside her. She made all kinds of keening sounds that aroused him even more. Not that he needed more encouragement. Maker, he had missed this! The smell of a female body connected with his, the feeling of hot passion, of the sweet wetness he now slid through, the slick sweat covering glowing skin, the fingers and nails that left stamps and scratches on his back, breasts moving with the rhythm of love-making, exposed erect pink nipples, just a nibble away, lips against his throat, teeth biting his shoulder... His breath went fast and intense; he tried to postpone the ultimate moment, to cling onto this perfection forever, or at least for a while more, but he knew he couldn’t hold it off much longer. He groaned her name.

And she came in a glorious orgasm that turned her face into the most beautiful ecstasy he had ever witnessed and made her body twist and shiver. Her sheath contorted powerfully and milked him dry. In an immense outburst he emptied himself in her dripping heat. Their mutual strident cries of elation mingled and wrapped around them before the sounds rose to the ceiling. The muscles in his arms trembled and then failed him; he couldn’t prevent collapsing on her small, slim body. He buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. ‘I think –‘ he began but she immediately cut him off.

‘Don’t speak,’ she whispered.

And she was right, of course. He shouldn’t spoil this with words.

He lay awake for hours, holding her in his arms, trying to make sense of what had happened. When, for Andraste’s sake, had he fallen in love with her? How? Why? She was a blood mage! He was a Brother of the Faith! This couldn’t last. He should climb out of this bed right now, perhaps leave a note to explain it had been wonderful but was never to be. Instead he fastened his grip. He didn’t want to lose this feeling, her body. Not yet. She let out a small contented sigh and sleepily kissed his chest. It brought him near to tears. No, she was no cheap fling, no means to satisfy his dormant desire. That would have been the case in his old days, the days of drinking and whoring and never remembering the name of the girl he woke up next to. The days he had mindlessly spent with only satisfying his contemptible cravings. The days before his father had got fed up with him and had grabbed him by the scruff and dumped him in Kirkwall’s Chantry.

Not this time. It was, in fact, impossible, but he couldn’t deny it. He loved her. He deeply and truly loved the small elf who was not only Dalish, and thus of a completely different faith, but a mage as well. A blood mage to boot. Although, and this was very clear to him, she might be an elf, a mage, but with a refreshing and original look upon the world. A look that made him reconsider so many seemingly indisputable facts. Like she had done this very day.

He was starting to think in circles, he knew it. He screwed his eyes shut and tried not to groan out loud. Tenderly his fingers wandered along the soft skin of her back. She responded with an almost purring sound and he had to smile. It was ridiculous, but he found comfort in her warm body, pressed flush to his.

Could it be he had fallen for her the moment he had met her, but hadn’t recognized it? Hadn’t _want_ to recognize it because – yes, where to start?

In the end he fell asleep with the comforting thought the problem could wait. Come morning it would be as vast as it was right now. There must be a solution, however. Somewhere there must be a solution.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s what you get from betting and strings of revenge: unforeseen outcomes. Although, believe me, this one came as a surprise to me as well. It’s what Varric said: “the characters lead the story, not me.” And sometimes they can do very unexpected things.
> 
> Hope you liked it, nevertheless.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	19. Chapter 19

It started with a Kiss part 22

-

And ... the rollercoaster goes on, starting with an extremely distressed mage, bending through a narrow curve featuring a suspicious pirate, taking a loop with an exhilarated Captain and ending with an emergency break caused by a shocked-to-the-bone elf.

-

Anders sat at the rickety desk in his clinic, working on his Manifesto, although his heart wasn’t in it. Every other moment his thoughts drifted off to Hawke and that – rabid dog. To the moment that same rabid dog had practically forced himself upon her at the Wounded Coast, and before their stunned eyes had kissed her like a possessed animal. To Hawke’s hurt look when she had accused them of Fenris’s leaving, which had shocked him to the core, and still did, even though he knew by now she had been acting. And far, far worse, to the radiant glow in her eyes every time when they fell upon that mage hater. He pictured them together in bed and Fenris doing all kinds of stuff with her that _he_ wanted to do with her. He cursed his vivid imagination.

It didn’t help Justice’s normal distraction was absent. After his dangerous outburst in the presence of the Grand Cleric, shortly after his breakdown due to, whatever Hawk had put into his tea, Justice had fallen silent once again. And the spirit still stayed suspiciously quiet, if not timid, and failed completely to sternly reprimand him about these dangerous contemplations. Or, if need be, to urge him on with his actions regarding the Liberation of All Mages. With all the capitals neatly in place. No one was better at pronouncing capitals than Justice. Or inverted commas, for that matter. And sometimes he had the audacity to combine the two. When he spoke about the “Mage Underground”, for example, it was perfectly clear he thought the movement was commendable enough as such, but totally unworthy in the way they functioned. But lately he hadn’t said much.

So it came completely as a surprise when he out of the blue rumbled, ‘ _You should do something about the roses.’_

Alarmed Anders flew upright. The quill that had idly rested upon the paper shot out and made a nasty scratch over the page, blotting out several scribbled words at once. He swore out loud. ‘What roses?’ he all but shouted in his distress.

‘ _The roses on the wall_ ,’ said Justice meekly, apparently backing down under Anders´s savage retort. ‘ _They constantly remind me of my not too finest hour. Perhaps you should cover them up with some paint or whitewash_.’

‘Oh really?!’ Anders sarcastically cried out. ‘Your “not too finest hour”? You don’t say!’ When it came down to pronouncing inverted commas, Justice could take a master class at this moment. ‘And where, pray, should I find the resources to buy the cans of paint to hide your shame?’

‘ _I’m certain you would have the money if you wouldn’t gamble it away at the games of cards you play in that despicable establishment_ ,’ Justice audibly pouted, pushing it to the limit.

That did it. Enraged, Anders pushed his chair backwards and determinedly stood up. ‘You may not have a body with urgent needs,’ _(like wanting to fuck the most desirable woman in Thedas completely senseless_ , he thought, grim and depressed at the same time), ‘but I do. Like right now I’m going to the Hanged Man and play cards till I’m broke.’ He considered this for a second. ‘Even more broke.’ He harshly went on, ‘And while doing so, I’m going to get myself tanked up with all the rotten whisky the “despicable establishment” has to offer. And when I puke out my guts afterwards, I hope you feel it too. I hope you feel it worse.’

Justice started a feeble protest, but was cut short by a ferocious yelled, ‘Just. Shut. Up!!’ He fled back into the crevice he hesitantly had emerged from and decided it was best to stay silent for a while longer.

Anders rammed the door to his clinic shut with such a vicious kick that the lantern fell from its hook, but he paid it no attention whatsoever. He stomped off, with the strong resolve not to return until he was only able to stagger and fall numbly on his cot. Perhaps then he would pull it off to fall asleep, and stay asleep, without the vision of Hawke constantly swimming through his mind.

-

A short time later Isabela glared at the same Hawke with narrowed eyes. ‘A witness? To your wedding? Me?’

Hawke didn’t twitch a muscle. ‘Together with Varric, yes.’

‘And to what extraordinary accomplishment do I deserve that honour?’

For some reason she didn´t trust the other woman´s saccharine expression. Suddenly Varric’s “hunch” came to mind. She had laughed about it earlier this day, but perhaps it hadn’t been that much of a hunch, after all. Perhaps the dwarf had been right with sensing some kind of terrible disaster, somewhere lurking in the future and biding its time to strike with dreadful force at the right moment. But whatever it was, Hawke’s eyes all but shone with happy innocence and gave nothing away. Isabela’s own eyes swivelled to Fenris who stood next to Hawke, but the elf wore his usual unfathomable poker-face and was as impossible to read as the menu of the Hanged Man. She’d sooner guess the contents of the mysterious stew than the thoughts behind that handsome but blank mask.

‘Because, as I pointed out to Varric not hours previous, you two are our best friends.’ Hawke’s friendly and above all harmless sounding voice floated through the air of Varric’s suite where they had met each other this evening.

‘And the fact I detest marriages didn’t trigger the hint I’d like to be as far as possible from such happenings?’

Hawke shrugged nonchalantly. ‘We’ve committed the crime already. Obviously.’ Again she flashed that insufferable smile. ‘So, rest assured, you won’t be an accomplice. Or do more damage than already is done. We just want to make it really official. Official in extremis, if you will.’

The smile started to work on Isabela’s nerves; it seemed to have a life on its own.

Varric, who observed the scene from a little distance, thought the same. Just like this afternoon, that smile gave him the nasty feeling Hawke and Fenris had worked out some extreme payback. She looked too innocuous and the elf too stone-faced not to. And, adding to his distress, he had to keep an eye on a very out of character behaving mage, who had entered his suite not an hour before with an attitude as if he had murder on his mind. He could imagine, dwarf or not, it must feel like this when the Fade had turned upside-down and all kinds of sneaky demons were wandering around, trying to play tricks on vulnerable and susceptible minds of humans and elves.

‘Just a little ceremony with the appropriate signatures, that’s all,’ explained Hawke amiably.

‘What happened to the pretty dress and all the rituals?’ the pirate asked, sceptically. She knew she just tried to postpone the inevitable and it irritated her. She felt powerless, not being able to avert whatever till now invisible doom would appear at the horizon, and that irritated her even more. And, to top it all, it could be she imagined things. Most probably _was_ imagining things, thanks to Varric. She was getting as paranoid as he was. Damn. She tried to push all the eerie feelings aside and listen to what Hawke was saying. Her intentions could be as innocent as her expression, after all.

‘Somewhat outdated, don’t you agree?’ Hawke was saying at the same moment. ‘Too little too late, Fenris and I deem. I absolutely don’t see the point of walking down some foresty aisle to the altar, or whatever equivalent the elves may have erected, in some nice-looking gown and holding a lovely bouquet of sweet smelling flowers while being married already. But don’t stress, we will have a hell of a celebration afterwards. Or party is perhaps a better word. With lots of food and drinks. In fact, as many drinks as you can handle. So, what do you say?’

Anders, who had indeed entered the suite with an expression like a brewing thunderstorm, already opened his mouth to give some poisonous reaction. But he got silenced by a kick in the shin, compliments of Varric.

The dwarf wanted at all costs to prevent the mage from shouting out something like, _Wake up you morons! You aren’t married at all_!! Probably at the top of his lungs. Or something equally disastrous that would spoil all the fun. Although the fun had already largely withered under his recent worries. And those worries had only increased when he saw Anders imbibing too many glasses of cheap whisky in too short a time. With a determined face, as if he had to keep an end to a serious bargain. _Not another one turned alcoholic_ , he pleaded silently. But he swiftly turned his attention to the subcutaneous battle fought between the two women present. Again.

Isabela said nothing for quite a while but grudgingly came to the conclusion there was no way out, not if she didn’t want to hugely insult Hawke and Fenris and put their friendship at stake. With a strained smile she volunteered, ‘Alright. It will be my pleasure.’

Relieved Varric stepped in and pushed a glass of rum into her hand. ‘Well done, Rivaini,’ he praised the pirate queen. ‘I knew you could do it.’ Just as Fenris, days earlier, he hadn’t been looking forward to a catfight. Already too many glasses had found their pitiful end in his rooms, due to too many shocks and squabbles. He needed some peace and quiet to think the situation over. He was relieved to see Isabela take the bait of the alcohol, and the not-at-all-married couple take a seat. One problem left. But when he sneakily tried to move the glass of whisky out of Anders’s reach, the mage practically growled at him.

‘Leave it,’ he bit with such force Varric almost felt the teeth clench into his hand. ‘I will get drunk tonight and let Justice suffer the hangover.’

‘Good luck with that,’ the dwarf mumbled and sincerely hoped Anders would make it back to his clinic, so he wasn’t forced to witness the outcome of that ridiculous and above all lousy idea.

-

Aveline couldn’t believe her luck. Every precious moment was filled to the brim with silver linings, chirping robins, fluttering butterflies and soft singing violins and other descriptions of romantic nonsense she hadn’t believed in, till recently. She could literally feel the heat Donnic’s body radiated while he walked next to her through star sprinkled Hightown. She could certainly feel it in his hand, holding hers. Now and again she stole a quick glance, as if to make sure he was really there and this was not her imagination running wild. She had never seen him out of his uniform before and the civilian outfit he wore this evening had almost come as a shock, even though it consisted only out of a pair of plain trousers and a simple, unadorned dark cotton shirt. But he looked fantastic in it.

The drinks he had promised her, had turned into a dinner in one of the more fancy restaurants in Hightown. And the afternoon had, without her noticing, continued into the evening and from there on stretched out to late at night.

After they had tidied her office, Donnic had gone to his room in the Barracks to change his outfit because, as he had put it, they were going out for drinks and not out on patrol. When he had left, she had started a feverish search for some suitable clothes, and in the end she had had to make do with a long, though rather stylish skirt and a bit too frivolous blouse she had to borrow from Guardswoman Brennan. Together with a pair of boots that didn’t look like she was about to trample a bunch of Qunari. (Thank the Maker it turned out they had the same size.) For she had come to the staggering conclusion she didn’t possess one decent piece of not uniform related attire herself. She had stuttered some implausible stupid excuse to Brennan she couldn’t even remember right now, and she was pretty sure the guardswoman knew very well what it was all about, but had withheld from any comment because she was the Captain. Which hadn’t helped. She had probably snickered behind her back and with good reasons too.

After that she had tried to scrub the awkwardness away, together with the ink that still stuck to her skin. Which was the reason her face shone pink like a newborn piglet when Donnic came to collect her. Too late she had realised she should have asked Brennan for some make-up, or perhaps for advise to do something daring with her hair. On the other hand, she probably hadn’t survived the embarrassment. All her insecurity had melted away when she met Donnic’s dazzling beam at the other side of the hastily opened door, and he had told her with bright honest eyes she looked lovely. She had stuttered some incoherent reply, feeling like a clumsy though very happy baboon. He had offered her his hand and she had floated down the Viscount’s Way into Hightown, all the way to the little intimate restaurant he had selected for their first non-official meeting. Their first date.

She had hardly tasted anything of the food and wine, too occupied with convincing herself this was really happening. Now and again she had pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. But then Donnic had laid a hand on hers and had said, ‘You don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to ask you out.’

‘Why didn’t you?’ Aveline asked with a quavering voice.

‘You are the Captain,’ he had explained with that special little smile that made her heart do several thrilling back flips. ‘To be honest, I was afraid you would regard it as an offence from a subordinate.’

With a sudden flare of courage, and with the assistance of perhaps a little too much wine, Aveline had blurted, ‘I hope you’ll consider even bolder actions from now on.’

‘Don’t you worry about that,’ Donnic had chortled. And immediately after he had proved his intensions by bending over the small table and brushing his lips against hers. The flare had turned into a blazing fire and the murmur of the other guests in the restaurant had drowned in the pounding of the blood in her ears. ‘A good thing Hawke came along to give a push,’ he had whispered.

He was right, of course. No matter how much she had been willing to strangle her friend, there was no denying that, without Hawke’s meddling, they would probably have circled around each other forever. And hadn’t she been the one who had wanted to ask Hawke how to buy Donnic a drink? Even without exactly being asked for her assistance, she had helped. Admittedly in a quite alternative way, but still.

And now they reached the door to her apartment in the Barracks.

‘Nightcap?’ Aveline asked with a somewhat throaty voice that, however, got compensated with a sweet smile. Sultry even, she hoped. She might despise the way Isabela acted, but sometimes, she grudgingly admitted, she could take lessons. And even not that grudgingly at this moment. Especially not with the reward not moments later.

‘I’m aiming for more than that,’ said Donnic huskily, right before he embraced her and let their mouths melt together.

And then, after she had managed to open the door,  he led her straight to heaven.

Let it suffice to say the nightcap became morning coffee.

-

Fenris was at a loose end. Marian had left the house to dot the i’s and cross the t’s with the caterer who would organize the wedding buffet. She’d announced she would hop along Aveline afterwards to see how things had turn out with Donnic and to make sure the Captain would arrange some kind of Guard of Honour. ‘She owes me that much,’ she had cheekily said. And she had asked him to take care of the wine. ‘You’re the expert,’ she had explained. ‘Feel free to purchase any bottles you think we need.’

But a quick inspection of the wine cellar had taught him that the stock was astonishing and didn’t need any replenishment. Apparently Bodahn had taken care of it during his time as a steward. On second thought, it wouldn’t surprise him if most of the bottles had been procured by Hawke’s ancestors. Or better, by whatever stewards they had employed in those days. Her ancestors had been nobility; he couldn’t image they’d visited the vintners themselves. And apart from the wine, he found dozens of bottles of whisky and cognac and other sophisticated fermented produce. A person could come down here and spend the rest of their life in happy oblivion. Mind you, it would probably be a short life, after which it was advisable not to put the in alcohol marinated body of the deceased on a pyre, in case of a sudden jet of flame. Embalming would be completely unnecessary.

In the end he had selected the bottles he thought were appropriate for the occasion, and after that had wandered into boredom.

He had tried to help Bodahn with decorating the drawing room and polishing all the glasses and china and cutlery the dwarf thought necessary to bring out, but the steward had categorically refused his assistance. ‘Don’t you worry, Messere, my boy and I can manage,’ he had stated, giving Fenris the impression that he in some way would insult the dwarf if he persisted. And so he had idly strolled through the house and had ended up in the library. But, he found out after he had at random picked a book from one of the many shelves, he couldn’t find the rest to set his mind to reading.

He felt relieved when a knock came to the front door. Or rather, when someone was rattling the woodwork as if hell and damnation had broken out. ‘I get it!’ he yelled while he hastened to the hallway, afraid Bodahn would take care of that simple task as well.

He opened the door and was quite amazed to come face to face with Sebastian. A flustered and muddled looking Sebastian. A seemingly completely out off balance Sebastian. In fact, the Chantry brother had a glow about him he couldn’t put his finger upon and a slightly wild look in his eyes he understood even less.

‘I need,’ Sebastian swallowed hard. ‘I need to talk with you. Urgently.’ He sounded strained.

‘Why? What happened?’ At once Fenris was getting anxious; he didn’t trust Sebastian’s flushed colour and strange expression. Obviously something had occurred and whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

‘Can I come in?’

Fenris realised he was blocking the entrance and stepped aside. With a generous wave of his hand he said, ‘Be my guest.’ More than a little ashamed, he remembered Sebastian had been exposed to the crushing power of a horde of children, something he had set into motion himself, and that it could well be the Chantry brother had finally reached his breaking point. He felt a flash of guilt.

Sebastian more or less stumbled inside and immediately started pacing. Nervously he peeked into the parlour. ‘Is Hawke at home?’

‘No,’ Fenris said. ‘She isn’t. Would you rather speak with her?’ He was growing uneasy by the other male’s behaviour. He hated to think this was his doing.

‘No! No, I wouldn’t,´ Sebastian hastened to exclaim. ‘On the contrary. To be honest, I´m glad she isn´t in. I´m not sure she would understand. Ehm. Would take it serious. I fear. Ehm. I mean, er...´ He let out a deep groan, blew out some air, sucked it in again, and started anew. ´I’d like to talk with a friend. That is, I can consider you a friend, can’t I?’

‘Of course you can!’ said Fenris with perhaps more emphasis than necessary. The feeling of guilt was now nagging at his conscience. With loud, colourful words.

 Sebastian paced some more. Then he abruptly turned and blurted, ‘I’ve slept with Merrill.’

At once Fenris stood petrified. He couldn’t move a muscle, although he felt like he had just received a punch in the gut and all the wind was knocked out of his lungs. Frantically he searched for words, or for any reaction at all. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound would come out. And all the while Sebastian persisted in pacing to and fro which began to work on his nerves. ‘I must have misheard that,’ he finally managed. ‘Please tell me I’ve misheard that.’

But Sebastian shook his head. He gave him a weak smile. ‘You didn’t.’

So, no orphans making amok. No nervous breakdown afoot. No need for feelings of guilt. With that out of the way, anger started to raise its red-hot head. ‘Why would you do such a thing?!’

Sebastian drew himself up to his full height and stated with feverish glistening eyes, ‘Because I love her.’

Vehemently Fenris struggled to keep his self-control, and with all his might he tried not to pounce upon Sebastian to beat the sense back into him. He took a deep breath. ‘Tell me what happened.’

He decided he could postpone committing homicide, or elficide, till after he had heard the whole story. The story better be good, mind you. Or at least plausible.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this a cliff-hanger? Well, sort of, I suppose.
> 
> I hope I caught the picture of a love-sick Aveline. At least it was much fun to write that part.
> 
> See you next time, and, as always, thanks so much for reading!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still going strong ... even after the emergency break...

It started with a Kiss part 23

-

Merrill pleasantly hummed to herself and to the world in general, while she busied herself with selecting herbs for the tea she was brewing. ‘Sage and yarrow for strength,’ she murmured in a singsong tone. ‘And melilot for energy.’ She smiled gleefully. ‘Because we will need that.’ Her small, nimble fingers plucked a few dried, still vaguely blue, star shaped flowers out of another jar. ‘And borage for happiness.’ She giggled naughtily. ‘Although we hardly need _that_.’

She cocked her head and let out a little sigh. Who would have thought a person had so many body parts that could tingle and flutter and glow. And explode in a fountain of ecstasy, for that matter. She wished now she had spent more time frolicking, instead of working at her non-cooperative mirror that only let her explode with frustration. She suspected, though, it was not just about the frolicking, but, more importantly, with whom you did it. Pahdell had been nice enough. Actually, he had been nothing less than a revelation. Well, the _book_ had been a revelation, of course, and, just as she, her former neighbour had been an eager student. She never had imagined you could turn sex into such an astonishing and pleasurable activity. Following all the thrilling examples and suggestions with Pahdell had been exciting enough, but then Sebastian had come along... It seemed he not only had read the book as well, so many times apparently he knew it by heart, but had practiced the instructions often enough to become some kind of connoisseur.

However, that was just one part of the story. He had added something special, something she hadn’t experienced with her turncoat of a neighbour. She found it hard to describe; it made her think of the moment when spring made a reappearance after a long and dreary winter. When the smell in the air subtly changed and the light became just that little bit brighter, and a tickling feeling of anticipation filled her mind with the prospect of colourful flowers and fresh leafs. And with overall unbridled happiness. In this case the strange sensation got amplified tenfold when Sebastian had looked at her with those summer-blue eyes. Or better, in the _way_ he had looked at her. As if she was the most beautiful and precious person in the world, instead of a dangerous blood mage with a recalcitrant, somewhat sinister mirror. And not only his eyes gave witness of his adoration; she had felt it in his kisses and caresses and certainly in the flame of his passion. It had stirred up all kinds of unfamiliar feelings. Unfamiliar, confusing even, but far from unpleasant. On the contrary. That’s what made her hum and do little waltzes across the kitchen floor.

She knew it couldn’t last. She might be naive and have a tendency to ramble a lot, she wasn’t half as clueless as most people thought she was. Sooner rather than later Sebastian too would realise that he couldn’t just drop everything out of his hands and turn his life upside-down for this – whatever this was exactly. No matter how right and wonderful it felt. So, she was determined to make the most of every short moment they were granted. She could at least make a lovely and warm memory from the brilliant shining fragments.

Merrill lifted the kettle from the stove and filled the pot with steaming water. After that she left her hovel, letting the tea steep for a while, to buy another bottle of wine and some scented candles. Lavender. Definitely lavender. She wanted to create a magical atmosphere without using actual magic. Sebastian had gone out to run an errant, but he would return shortly, he had assured her after the warmest and most tender of embraces.

After she’d come back home again, she pensively sipped her tea, while she arranged the candles on the shelves and sprinkled some dried flowers, which she’d found at the Lowtown bazaar, in small bowls. She sat down to take in and smell the outcome of her actions, and only then she saw she had forgotten to take her ball of twine with her. And yet she hadn’t lost her way. Varric would have called it symbolic. Probably.

-

Anders awoke with the mother of all headaches. He got the impression that a spiky ball, made out of lead, with sadistic delight was bouncing around the inside of his skull. ‘ _I hope you’re satisfied_ ,’ rumbled Justice, generously adding to the splitting pain.

‘Only if you’re suffering as much as I do,’ Anders viciously snarled, rubbing his brow in a vain attempt to lessen the throbbing.

‘ _I only suffer because you are neglecting the True Cause_ ,’ Justice piously declared.

Anders rolled his eyes, which only made things worse. He stumbled out of bed and hobbled into the clinic, squinting against the second-hand light that reluctantly wandered in through the small window. Carefully he lowered himself on the wobbling chair at his rickety desk and opened one of his grimoires, desperate to find a recipe for a cure against the attack of a persistent sledgehammer. From experience he knew a healing potion didn’t work in this sort of cases. Sadly. He could only hope for a remedy that would lessen this self-inflicted suffering. He prayed he had the right herbs in store.

‘ _Why don’t you just heal yourself_?’

Sometimes Anders wished he could simply reach into his head and strangle that damn spirit. ‘Don’t you think that if I had found a medicine for a hangover, I would be as rich as the Queen of Antiva by now?!’ he snapped irritably. He shoved the book aside and opened another one.

After a short silence Justice replied, ‘ _No, I didn’t_.’

‘Didn’t know what,’ growled Anders who, at this moment, wasn’t exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer but sooner a dull, rusty spoon.

‘ _That you could be as rich as_ – ‘

‘Yes, yes. I do hope you understand I meant that figuratively. Hangovers are harder to cure than broken bones. Just like heartaches,’ Anders added sourly. ‘But usually they don’t last as long.’

‘ _Then why_ – ‘

‘Oh, shut up!’ Anders spat. He was absolutely not in the mood for bickering with Justice. Listlessly he turned a few pages and then got up. ‘There’s always one remedy left,’ he said. ‘Just go and have another drink.’

‘ _I don’t think that would be wise_ ,’ Justice began to protest.

‘I’ve never been lauded for my wisdom,’ Anders grumbled and set course for the Hanged Man.

He had hardly passed the threshold of the tavern or his look fell upon Isabela who stood at the bar. Normally she was already very hard to ignore as it was, but now she had turned into a real eye catcher. She wore a short, strapless scarlet dress that intimately hugged all her voluptuous curves, and she had done something artistic with her hair that involved lots of curls, ribbons and flowers.

‘What are you all dressed up for?’ he informed after his initial shock and, to his dread, sudden arousal had somewhat ebbed away.

‘My, you have a short memory!’ Isabela grinned. ‘Or is this a typical case of too much whisky, or perhaps fervently trying to forget something you don’t want to remember? Which, under the current circumstances, probably is the same, I imagine.’

Anders just stared at her, or rather at her cleavage that looked invitingly back. He had to curl his hands into fists to prevent they’d do something totally inappropriate, like hungrily pawing that lustrous bosom.

‘Do I truly have to remind you that today is the day of that stupid wedding?’ Isabela went on, pretending she didn’t notice his instinctive and raw brainstem reaction. ‘And that I, involuntarily, have to play the role of the witness?’

Her words had the same effect as a bucket with ice water and Anders felt the disturbance in his nether regions calm down. Resolutely he turned to Corff and ordered a pint of ale.

The pirate queen merrily babbled on. ‘This,’ she said, pointing at her outfit, ‘was not my idea, so you know. I’d have happily attended the whole boring ceremony in my every day pantsless togs, but Varric insisted. He said the least I could do, was wearing some festive clothing. So I decided on something frivolous and slutty. What do you think? Too much?’

‘It’s certainly – striking,’ Anders managed, while he wiped the foam off his upper lip. ‘It might cause a seizure or two, mind you. Or perhaps a full-scaled riot.’

‘Well, then we’ll have something to laugh about, won’t we. Personally, I hope it will get me a good roll in the sack.’

‘Dressed like that? You’ll have to beat off the interested candidates with a spiky club. A very long and very heavy one.’

Isabela chortled cheekily at that and patted, or rather caressed, her hips in a not to misunderstand salacious way.

Once more Anders’s brainstem roared into action until the pirate’s next remark made it cool down before it could do any harm.

‘Will you be present? In the Keep, I mean?’

Anders choked on a sip of ale and started to cough ostentatiously. ‘Are you crazy?’ he cried out when he could speak again. ‘And watch how Hawke throws her life away?!’

Isabela shrugged nonchalantly, which let her bosom do several things Anders vehemently tried to ignore. He took a desperate gulp of his drink.

‘I don’t like it either, though I never would put it so dramatically. You can join the party afterwards, I suppose. I figure there will be plenty of alcohol to drown your misery in.’ She waved at the bartender to fill up her glass. ‘And the good part is, it will be for free, unlike in here.’ She took a large quaff. ‘No way in the world I’ll be able to stomach that wedding while being sober.’ She cast a sidelong glance at the mage, but decided she would rather die than share her fear that something awful was about to happen. Not with the perfect example of how wretchedness looked like after the banging effect of a bottle of Hanged Man whisky. Not with anyone, to be honest. Several times over she had hit herself to get rid of the eerie feeling Varric had stirred up. To no avail. So now she tried the therapy of a gallon of rum.

‘I’ll think about it,’ Anders said sulkily. But in his heart he knew there wasn’t enough alcohol in the world, free or not, to wash away his unhappiness. He pondered the thought of dragging Isabela upstairs and performing his famous electricity trick, but disregarded that. Even his primitive male senses voted against it. It would be the worst idea ever; even worse than getting drunk with the infantile intension of letting Justice pay for it.

-

Fenris had pushed Sebastian into the library, and with force had planted him down on the sofa. He wanted him out of the hallway and, above all, he wanted him to stop pacing, before he’d go completely bonkers. He badly needed a drink but suppressed the urge. Arriving half drunk in the office of the Viscount didn’t seem like a good idea. Instead he folded his arms over his chest and glared sternly at the former prince.

‘Explain what happened,’ he said harshly.

‘I had the most wonderful night of my life,’ Sebastian said, with a heavenly expression blooming on his face.

That, Fenris didn’t want to hear. He wished to hear well meant excuses, he wished to see tears of deep regret. He wished for utter and complete distress. What he absolutely _not_ wanted was this shameless display of pure bliss. ‘ _Venhedis_!’ he snapped. ‘What has got into you?! What drove you to this, this _idiocy_?!’

Sebastian smiled faintly. ‘I love her,’ he declared for a second time that morning.

Fenris screwed his eyes shut and tried with all his might to stay calm. ‘When you showed up, I thought you were in panic,’ he said gruffly. ‘Or was about to break down.’ _Because of a bunch of orphans,_ he thought but didn’t say out loud, afraid he would start shouting. For some reason he thought shouting wouldn’t get through to Sebastian at this moment. He was certain that even if Andraste would make an appearance, she wouldn’t get through to him. The besotted idiot would undoubtedly wave all her arguments aside. If he would recognise her at all in the state he was in.

Sebastian looked up. ‘I was. I am. In panic. Or not in panic as such. More like overwhelmed. Something like this has never happened to me before. And frankly, it frightens me. I’ve been with many women in the past, but never with someone like her. She is passionate and yet gentle. I’ve never met a gentler person like her; she even cares for the smallest of flowers. And she is cheerful, and beautiful and did I mention passionate? ‘

‘And a blood mage.’ Fenris interrupted Sebastian’s, to his opinion, sickening praise. He thought he couldn’t stress that part too much, but he could have saved himself the trouble, for, as expected, Sebastian didn’t listen.

‘She awoke a feeling in me I never thought existed, she opened up my heart. She enchanted me,’ he murmured, his eyes unfocused and dreamily as if he had consumed a cartload of the herbs they had used for the payback on Anders.

‘More like bewitched you,’ Fenris grunted, desperately trying to curb his anger, an exertion that became harder by the minute. Clearly Sebastian was a man in love, or was under the impression he was a man in love, and it was his duty to talk this madness out of his head. ‘And what about your vows to the Chantry?’ he said, hoping this would bring back some common sense. He got deeply disappointed with his friend’s reaction.

‘I’ll have to disavow them, obviously.’ Sebastian smiled distantly. ‘I did that once before, for less pressing reasons.’

_Less pressing??Taking revenge on the murderers of your family was less pressing?!! Gods, this_ is _a bad case of infatuation!_

Fenris threw his arms in the air. ‘And then what?’ he shouted, leaving his better judgement behind. ‘March onto Starkhaven, let her magick the usurper out of the palace and plant her on the throne as your legally wedded spouse?’

Sebastian looked up and flashed him a brilliant smile. ‘That’s actually not a bad idea,’ he said.

The elf was about to flew at the, in his eyes now definitely ex-Brother, when there sounded a rumour at the entrance of the library. To his immense relief he heard Marian´s voice.

´What´s going on here?’

He swirled to her, while he pointed at Sebastian with an accusing finger. ‘I told you before that the gift we bought for the – for Merrill had backfired,’ he growled. ‘As it turns out, it has done more than that. It has caused utmost and total disaster.’

Hawke cast just one glance on Sebastian, because one glance was enough and told her everything she needed to know. ‘Oh dear.’

‘Is that all you can say? _Oh dear_??’ Fenris yelled, all worked up. ‘He _slept_ with her, for the Maker’s sake!’

‘I made love to her,’ Sebastian murmured, a little defiance showing on his face. ‘Beautiful, wonderful love.’

‘Oh dear,’ Hawke repeated because she couldn’t think of anything else to say at this moment. She tried to hold back her merriment because her lover looked like he was on the brink of exploding, but she had a hard time doing so. ‘I knew the pen was mightier than the sword, but it seems, in this particular situation, they are a perfect match for each other.’

Fenris glared at her when she started giggling. ‘It is not funny!’

Hawke bit her lip to prevent she’d burst out with laughter but failed gloriously. She sank down on the sofa next to Sebastian, still laughing, and patted his hand. ‘My sweet boy,’ she said to the man who easily stood a head higher than she and was about ten years older, ‘tell me, what made you run to my, er, husband to pour your heart out? I can’t imagine you’d think he would take it lightly.’ She waved her hand at Fenris in the hope he wouldn’t interfere. With a huff the elf leant back against the mantelpiece of the fireplace.

Sebastian looked up and Marian couldn’t help feeling touched by the pleading and yet happy expression in his eyes. ‘I thought, since he loves you and that love has come so sudden and unexpected, he would understand.’

_Ouch_

Fenris opened his mouth and closed it immediately after. All kinds of thoughts and emotions started to tumble over each other in his mind, in a raging tempo.

_Yes, but I don’t love a blood mage_! was the first to come up. _Yes_ , _I was overwhelmed, just like you,_ _and I can imagine that’s a bewildering sensation_ , was a good follow-up. And then came a blur of an incoherent stream consisting of things like: _and what if Marian were a mage, or worse, a blood mage. I wouldn’t even have looked at her twice. Wouldn’t you? She is a remarkable woman, to say the least about it. She would have conquered your heart nevertheless, you know that. No I don’t. Yes you do. With that filleting voice she would have. And you know she was right. Right with all her nasty words. So what, she’s not Merrill. No, but to Sebastian she is. What Marian is to you, is Merrill to him. Shut up! You fell in love, he fell in love. What’s the difference. The difference is, she’s a blood mage, and an elf to boot, and he is, was, a Brother of the Faith. So what? And, seriously, bigotry? From you? What, so what? They are as far apart as Anders and common sense! Will you please stop whinging and just accept that the man who calls you a friend has fallen in love with a woman you happen not to approve of? Stop being so small-minded! You’re letting your friend down._

_Is this how Anders feels all the time? No! This goes too far!_

Fenris took a deep, therapeutic breath. It was no small feat, having such a heavy discussion with yourself. And then he got aware of two faces, looking expectantly at him. He produced a wan smile. ‘Perhaps I overreacted a little,’ he said, grudgingly. He realised all his emotions must have shown on his face like some kind of moving picture show. ‘I don’t agree...’

‘I don’t think that matters, Fenris,’ Hawke said gently.

‘But I think I understand,’ Fenris let follow, with a rather ugly look at his lover.

Hawke gave him a lopsided smile. ‘Sorry, I should have known.’ The smile became a beam. ‘I should have known you would understand in the end.’ She turned to Sebastian, patting his hand some more. ‘Sweetheart, I suggest you go back to Merrill. I suppose she’s waiting for you? Tell her you feel confused. Be honest. I’m convinced she feels the same. Enjoy the momentum. There will be time enough for worries and doubt. Not now. Wallow in the love you share.’

Kindly she helped him up and saw him to the door. Fenris trailed after them, feeling at a loss. It was not for the first time, in the last twenty somewhat hours. This shouldn’t become a habit.

‘Buy her a bunch of flowers,’ Hawke suggested when she waved Sebastian goodbye.

He smiled broadly at her. ‘That was my idea all along.’

Hawke close the door and with a sigh turned to look at Fenris. ‘Was this really so hard?’

‘I panicked.’ He was still struggling with the topic, his reactions and his confused feelings. And thus his voice sounded somewhere between defiance and remorse.

´So did I. But at least I managed to keep my wits together.´

He chose to ignore that, though he recognized the jab. He should have done better, despite his stampeding emotions. ´And now?’

‘Honestly? I have no idea. Let them have their moment. Maybe the bubble will burst. Maybe it will last. Who knows?  But I don’t think we are the ones to judge them.’

Fenris took a step forward and closed her in her arms. He reveled in the sensation of holding her body close to his. It gave him peace and quiet, it gave him air. Just the scent of her hair calmed him down. ‘No, we are not. I know that now.’ He thought about the discussion in his head. ‘I wish him, them, all the love in the world.’

Hawke kissed him lovingly. ‘Much better! Very good, even. But now, my darling, we have to prepare for the theater that awaits us in the Keep.’

Fenris groaned wholeheartedly. He really, really wasn’t looking forward to that. Especially not with the reaction of some certain people in mind. But it was her idea and, he had to admit, it _was_ the final revenge. Thus he had agreed.

-

Anders got more het up by the minute. He had stopped imbibing ale and again had started to drink whisky, although not only Justice but also his sound mind had strongly advised against it. It was getting harder to keep both voices apart. But, whatever the case, he wasn’t in the mood to heed either of them. So, in the middle of the afternoon, he mustered what was left of his wits and set out to the Keep to prevent Hawke from making, in his view, the biggest mistake of her life.

Corff saw him staggering off with wild determination in his eyes and mumbled to himself, ‘That’s one bombshell in the make, and no mistake.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I have no idea if Sebastian is really ten years older than Hawke. I just figured that, with his wild past and being in the Chantry for quite a long time, he simply can’t be in his early twenties. But that’s just a wild guess.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Er, again a warming about sex, I’m afraid. Sorry about that, I just thought they needed some. Hope you don’t mind.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Part 24: Lots ado about Sebastian, of course. The Mother Hen is concerned. In the meantime Hawke and Fenris fair their own course...

-

‘It’s an outrage, Your Grace! He was … he was kissing that girl like there was no tomorrow! And not only kissing! There was groping involved!! Lots of it!! At inappropriate body parts!! And right in front of the children too!!!’

Patiently Elthina let all the exclamation marks come over her. ‘Would you like a cup of tea, Sister Geofride?’ Without waiting for an answer she poured a cup from the silver pot sitting on her desk and pushed it in the direction of the upset guardian of the orphans. She put up her most reassuring smile, carefully hiding the worries that were swirling through her own head. ‘Tart?’

Geofride bristled, until her eyes caught the plate Elthina gestured at. It was filled with small pieces of pastry, smartly cut into little squares and diamonds. Apple tart, by the look of it. Only now the smell got through to her. She deflated somewhat. ‘Uhm, yes. Tart. Thank you.’ She took a piece and started chewing.

Thankful that she had managed to shut up Sister Geofride, if only for as long as the pastry lasted, Elthina let her thoughts run free. In the meantime she regarded the guardian with a friendly smile and said completely different words than the ones spooking through her mind. ‘I’m certain there’s nothing to worry about, Sister Geofride. Give the boy his due. He has worked so hard over the last week.’

‘That doesn’t give him a free pass to do as he pleases,’ Geofride put forward with a full mouth. She sounded muffled but still highly affronted.

‘And you should give him the benefit of the doubt,’ Elthina continued while she slightly raised her voice, annoyed that even a piece of apple tart couldn’t shut the other woman up. ‘You know his past – ‘

‘Exactly!’ Geofride interrupted her, hastily swallowing her last bite and agitatedly spreading crumps around. She couldn’t wait to vent her opinion. ‘He was notorious! He chased every skirt in town! No wonder he relapsed!! And _she_ encouraged him, the little wench! I saw it with my own eyes!!’

Elthina felt a headache coming up. Too much exclamation marks could do that to a person. They seemed to puncture her very scull with nasty little pinpricks. Resolutely she piled the remaining pieces of the apple tart on a smaller plate and practically flung said plate under the other woman’s nose. Or better: mouth. ‘Have some more,’ she commanded. She feared that, apart from literally gagging Geofride, no measure would be sufficient enough to make her stop talking. But she could try.

She very much wanted to question Geofride’s story, wanted to believe she had made up the appalling incident out of spite. But, besides the fact that she couldn’t think of a single reason why she would do such a thing, the woman definitely lacked the imagination to come up with such gossip. She needed to think. Urgently. And she wouldn’t get a chance to do so with Geofride’s incessant chattering attacking her brain. Determinedly she rose from her chair.

‘I’m very sorry, Sister Geofride, but I’m afraid I have an important appointment in a few moments.’ (And that was absolutely not a lie, she told herself, firmly. Contemplation could be categorized under “an important appointment with myself”. And thus it would absolve her from the atrocious sin of lying.) ‘If you like, we can talk about this further this afternoon,’ she went on with desperate, faked brightness. ‘But right now, alas, my time is up. Feel free to take the tart with you.’

She walked around her desk, pushed the plate into the hands of the other, bewildered woman, and practically shoved her out of her office. She closed the door behind her back and wearily rubbed her face. Slowly she walked back to her desk and sank down, trying to smother a panic attack. _Oh_ _Sebastian_ , she thought, _what have you done_ this _time_? The nasty business with the mercenaries who had killed his family had been bad enough. But at least he had come to his senses and had shown remorse. This, however, was a totally different matter. _If_ it was really true what Sister Geofride claimed she had witnessed. Pride and grief wouldn’t play a part in this case. She hated to think that he had fallen prey to his cheap desires from old. If so, that would be a major setback.

Absentmindedly she brushed the crumbs away that Geofride so generously had spread around. Most of the mess had ended up in what Sebastian had referred to as the Righteous Cardigan. Probably Geofride left, at this very moment, a trail in her wake that happily was followed by all the mice in the building. Despite the situation she had to smile. With a sigh she poured herself another cup of tea.

She apprehended she had to handle this with the utmost caution, no matter how much she wanted to drag her pupil back to the Chantry to give him a good piece of her mind. Of course, even in that scenario, she had to locate him first, and that would be difficult enough. Kirkwall was no small city, and Sebastian and “the little wench” could be hanging out anywhere. Maybe Hawke knew something; he was, after all, one of her friends. Perhaps that meant she had encouraged him in his urge for revenge in the business concerning his family, and had answered his plea by annihilating the mercenaries he had mentioned in his post on the Chantry board.  Although, she had to admit on second thought, that was not completely true. In reality Marian Hawke had done the job for him and had not egged him on afterwards. On the contrary, even. She could not deny that Hawke had a good influence on him. She might persuade him to think twice before he plunged into – whatever it was he would or wanted to plunge into. That thought cheered her up a little.

-

Fenris forced himself to forget about the whole Sebastian-in-love problem, for the time being. Right now there were other issues to keep him occupied.

‘Did you manage to speak with Aveline?’ he asked while he and Marian climbed the stairs to the bedroom. ‘About the Guard of Honour?’ He pronounced the last three words as something extremely funny. It amused him beyond measure and, more importantly, it was a welcome diversion.

‘Ah, yes, I did,’ Hawke smirked. ‘And she agreed without any protest whatsoever. She was in such a wonderful mood that she even promised to throw in her parade armour as a bonus.’

‘Really?’ reacted Fenris, crestfallen. ‘Are you sure we’re talking about the same Aveline? Quite sturdy woman? Has neither patience nor taste for frivolous nonsense? Hates her parade armour?’

‘The one and only,’ Marian grinned. ‘And, if I may add, she definitely had a glow about her. In fact, she looked as radiant as a summer bride. Undoubtedly Isabela would have said something of the sorts that good sex works miracles for a person. Even for Captain Man Hands.’

’So it seems that your meddling has had the effect you aimed for.’

Marian sauntered over to where Bodahn had hung out her new dress. It was no wedding gown, but the garb looked festive enough for the occasion. In sky blue, with a tight bodice and an elegant long skirt, and with the right amount of lace and ribbons without yelling: here comes the bride!

‘Well, I wouldn’t call it meddling. Not as such. I just dropped a few hints.’ She started to get rid of her day-to-day armour. ‘Admittedly they were hard to miss.’ She dropped her leather greaves on the pile of her armour and wondered if there was time to take a bath. ‘I mean, you had to be quite dim-witted or a stiff-necked dolt not to get the meaning...’

Her voice drifted off when she got aware of the sudden silence behind her back. It was not the kind of silence due to lack of response. She was used to that. Often Fenris let her just prattle on, deeming it was not worth the trouble answering her twaddle. No. This time it seemed like a small, very local and very personal black hole had materialized and sucked up all the sound in its direct vicinity. ‘Oh, bugger,’ she mumbled, steeling herself against the inevitable.

Slowly she turned around to see Fenris staring at the garments Bodahn had laid out for him on the bed. With an appalled expression. Even his back radiated distress.

To the elf’s dread the clothes involved a dark blue, gold trimmed, velvet tailcoat (with a cravat to match), a silk shirt with lace cuffs, glistening soft deep green in the afternoon light, a pair of dark blue breeches of the finest wool, and – hell! – shining blue leather shoes.

‘Do I really have to wear that?’ He sounded strained.

Marian took a breath and put up courage. ‘Yes, my love, you have. We must at least keep up the appearance we are attending our own wedding. They won’t buy it if you show up barefoot and in your spiky armour. It would be as good as a blatant stated: “No, I don’t.”’

He didn’t react to her mild jibe. Instead he said, still with that dismayed look, ‘Where did you ever obtain such – outlandish apparel?’

‘At an exclusive little Orlesian boutique named Chez Dominique, in a small alleyway off the Hightown Market. I bought them over there, like paid for them with my own money, because I’m an upstanding citizen nowadays.’

‘Indeed.’

Sometimes it was annoying her lover had only one name. Marian remembered very clearly the impact her mother had had on the three Hawke children by using all their names, middle names included, when she called them to order. Just before she would get a firm, pinching hold on an earlobe. ‘I may be a rogue, _Serah_ _Fenris_ ,’ she told him indignantly, (nope, not half as good as _Marian Esmeralda Hawke!_ ), ‘that does, however, not mean I’m thieving at all times.’

‘Quite.’

Lividly she put her hands on her hips and stuck her chin out to tell him where to get off.

‘And you didn’t consider engaging me in that endeavour? To let me pick my own attire for the occasion?’

Abruptly she closed her already opened mouth. Her eyes fell on his slightly slumped shoulders and she wanted to punch herself. ‘I, er, I thought you hated shopping for clothes,’ she said meekly and suddenly felt very humble and about three inches high. ‘I suppose I wanted to safe you the trouble.’ _You blasted idiot! You acted like you were his mother ... or worse._ ‘I’m sorry,’ she croaked. ‘You are right and I’m sorry.’

He turned to her and gave her a small but cheeky smile. ‘You don’t have to apologize,’ he said. ‘In fact you _did_ spare me a lot of trouble. I don’t imagine I would have appreciated coming with you on this particular errant.’ He graced her with another little intimate smile. ‘And I must say I rather like the, er, suit. Or whatever you should call it. But I would have gladly paid for it with my own money.’

The three inches shrunk to two, at the most. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again, feeling even more wretched, ‘I never intended to patronize you.’

‘Of course not. Stop apologizing, Marian. It’s not the clothes that are bothering me.’

She frowned. ‘It’s not? Then, what is?’

Fenris lowered himself on the bed. He pulled his fingers through his hair, making an adorable mess of it, and pursed his lips. Finally he said, ‘I’m immensely longing for some peace and quiet. Frankly, I’m fed up with the whole situation.’ He waved a hand at the discussed outfit. ‘And that, ehm, disguise is a part of it. Hence my reaction.’ He shook his head. ‘My life is in constant turmoil since that first night with you.’ He snorted un-Fenris -like. ‘Since that first impulsive kiss.’ He looked up when he felt her sudden anxiety. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I don’t regret it. I just wished there was more time to cherish it. Without the need of constantly looking over my shoulder in case Varric or Isabela find new ways to make life difficult and complicated. Without thinking about another payback. Without being confronted with unexpected holidays, blown up houses and fake marriages. Or besotted Chantry Brothers, for that matter.’ He looked pleadingly at her.

Hawke coughed awkwardly. ‘Erm, yes. Things have gone out of hand. Somewhat.’ She caught his eyes. ‘A whole lot.’ She produced a meek lopsided grimace, not feeling very comfortable with his blunt confession.

‘I am to blame as well,’ Fenris continued. ‘I participated out of free will.’ He let out a soft laugh. ‘A good thing, really. A couple of years ago, I couldn’t have dreamed I ever got to say such words. You changed me, you made me feel confident.’ Before she could wallow in his words of praise, he became serious again. ‘You keep telling me, and yourself, that this afternoon marks the end of all the commotion. But I can’t help fearing it will never stop. By now I can understand how feuds come to existence and keep on festering for centuries.’

Right. Time to interfere. Time to do something drastic about this fretting, no matter how justified it was. Hawke clambered onto the bed and took position at his back. She started to unclasp his breastplate.

‘Is this your way of telling me I must stop complaining and bellyaching?’ he informed, a bit fractious.

‘No,’ Hawke said determinedly, ‘this is my way of trying to make you relax.’ With his armour out of the way, she began to massage the tight muscles of his shoulders. ‘You know,’ she said conversationally, while she worked on some persistent knots, ‘you have a strong, valid point. I ever so often long for the days when we did not much more than make love.’

Fenris chuckled and immediately after groaned his approval when her hands relieved the nagging tension of a particularly protesting muscle.

‘For the days we didn’t even know what day it was, precisely,’ she continued in tender, near swooning memory, ‘and didn’t care one bit about it.’

‘Yes,’ Fenris mused, ‘when we, now and again, had to hunt the larder for ever meagre growing supplies. So we wouldn’t faint of lack of nutrition.’ He chuckled some more. ‘Although, as I remember it, we did that more out of habit. Or out of some kind of inbred instinct. Personally, I could have survived on love alone in those days.’

Suddenly Hawke had to swallow back a lump in her throat. It was true what he said. They had been perfectly happy. Being together, drinking in each other’s love and dedication had more than sufficed to stay alive. Love had been more than enough and there had been love aplenty. And then they had discovered that blasted broken piece of jewellery and everything had gone awry.

No, not awry. Complex. Idiotic.

For a moment she rested her chin on his shoulder. ‘But you cannot deny we had a few good laughs.’

His grunted half-hearted agreement got lost in a moan when her lips suddenly started to graze the skin of his neck and especially when the tip of her tongue touched the spot behind his ear. ‘And without all the stupid antics of both sides you’d never have learned your true name,’ she whispered huskily. ‘Or would have remembered your mother’s voice, or the colour of her hair.’

That was all true and he wanted to say, _yes, you are right, but on the other hand that also was more than disturbing and, in fact, I hardly couldn’t cope with it and it nearly drove me insane_ , if it weren’t for her fingers that now sensually wandered over his chest and softly caressed his nipples. So, instead, he groaned something incomprehensible. More future protests got smothered when her hands went further down and lingered at the entrance of his tights while her lips trailed open mouthed wet kisses along his throat.

‘We could relive those days,’ she murmured huskily.

‘I thought we should be at the Keep within now and – within soon,’ Fenris managed, helplessly.

‘There is always time,’ Hawke said confidently while she removed his shirt, kissing his shoulders along the way. ‘They will wait for the bride and groom. After all, what’s a marriage without the most important participants present?’

Without him being able to prevent it, as if he even was willing to put up a fight, she pushed him on his back and straddled him, applying divine pressure on his fast hardening member. Without much result he tried to suppress a lustful moan.

‘Or do you think they will call the whole thing off when we show up a few minutes too late?’ she went on with a cheeky half-smile that promised more than a few minutes of heavenly attention.

‘Just a few minutes?’ he thus smirked, catching the glimmer in her eyes. With pure ecstasy he felt her thighs on his legs and her delightful female parts touching his manly ones, even through the fabric of their clothes. Finally, and frankly without any reluctance to speak of, he gave in to her intend. There was no getting away from it. Besides that, her ministrations, together with the memory of their first days, weeks, had turned him tremendously on.

‘Hmm,’ she hummed, ‘or maybe an hour. Or two.’

Her words almost got lost in a hot cloud of lust and desire.

With practised ease she untied the laces of his tights and pulled them, together with his underclothes, down his hips. She groaned appreciatively when she was greeted by his eager prancing cock. Teasingly she closed her lips around his tip and playfully let her tongue twirl along the smoothness of the tight skin. She revelled in the sounds he made at this unexpected treat. Smiling inwardly, she took him deeper and started to suck him in earnest. Softly at first, but, encouraged by his grunts and moans, ever more firmly. To her satisfaction he grew even harder. Slowly she let his cock slip out of her mouth, to replace her tongue with her lips that planted heated kisses all along his length, before she took him in again. She felt the moist building up between her thighs.

Before him she never had thought that pleasuring a man in this way could be so arousing. But with him it was. She could work herself up to an orgasm, simply by adoring his alluring manhood, and lose herself in the effect it had on him. And on her, simultaneously. He never would take advantage of her, he never demanded anything. He always underwent her display of love in near surprised delight, as if he didn’t deserve it. And that added to the feeling of bliss. She would do anything to let him feel happiness and when, along the way, she felt as ecstatic as he did by her ministrations, it only added to her exhilaration, even though he still had troubles with undergoing this part of her adoration.

And so she wasn’t surprised when he suddenly sat up and removed her with tender force from his nether regions, pulling her firmly into his arms, despite her moaned protest.

‘I want to kiss you,’ he declared in a low voice, and without further explanation suited the action to his words. She crawled into his lap while their tongues intertwined and heated up their lovemaking.

At first his hands just held her close to his body, if only to undergo the pure exhilaration of her naked skin pressed to his. But then his fingers started to explore every inch of flesh they could reach – as if it was new territory. As if they hadn’t done that a thousand times before. And, as they had experienced that thousand times before, now again basked in the knowledge this was the body of the woman they loved. He loved. The woman he worshipped. The women who, still to his amazement, loved him back.

‘Fenris,’ she whispered. With a subtle movement she lifted her hips and caught his hard cock between her thighs.

He simply could suppress a loud cry when he slid into her wet, embracing sheath. They both shuddered. His hands moved to her hips and started to move her, up and down, slowly. ‘I love you,’ he breathed.

His words almost got lost in the enormity of all the feelings that overwhelmed him. In the midst of his disquiet she managed to chase his worries away. And this was no cheap trick, as sex so often was. With her actions it was so transparently obvious that she tried to make clear how much she cared for him. Where words regularly failed, deeds could do the job. And with this deed, she really put him at ease. He could feel, simply _smell_ , she loved him as much as he loved her. Her scent surrounded him and told him everything he wanted to know. Everything he already knew. But it didn’t hurt to reinforce his pledge. ‘I love you,’ he repeated, louder this time. He almost wept.

‘And I love you,’ she cried in response. And not a heartbeat later she got lost in a mighty peak that dragged him with her into the realm of ecstasy.

For several minutes they tried to regain their voices, their thoughts, their common sense, or anything at all that would lead them back to the present time.

‘If you’re going to say again you’re sorry, I will slap you,’ Fenris finally managed, in a meagre try at humour.

It made Marian go into a fit of laughter. ‘Rest assured, I’m not sorry at all. Not about this.’

‘Good.’

With some difficulty he pulled it off to remove her from his lap and drag her into her arms instead, wriggling until they both lay in a position that was satisfying. Which meant that he could hold her in his arms as fast as possible, while they were both able to keep breathing.

‘I wish we could stay here for the rest of the day,’ Fenris murmured in her hair. ‘For the rest of our lives.’

‘So do I,’ Marian agreed, while she let her fingers lazily wander over the supple muscles of his chest. ‘But if things play out the way they should, we can enjoy this as often as we want to. In all the peaceful harmony of the world.’

‘I will hold on to that thought.’

Reluctantly she freed herself from her lover’s arms. ‘And now, I fear, we’ll have to get ready.  
That is, if we want to make that appealing prospect come true. And we really will have to start with a bath.’

-

‘Flowers!’ exclaimed Merrill, pleasantly surprised. ‘For me?’

‘Yes, for you,’ Sebastian said with a shy smile. ‘You like flowers, don’t you?’

‘Oh, I _love_ flowers!’ She accepted the offered bouquet and buried her nose in it to inhale the sweet smell. ‘Where did you get them?’

‘From the Viscount’s gardens,’ Sebastian confessed. Sometimes it paid out to be a prince; the guards hadn’t dared to thwart him. ‘You told me you didn’t visit them anymore and there grow so much prettier flowers over there than in the Chantry garden.’

Merrill giggled impishly. ‘You stole them!’

With a shrug Sebastian said, ‘It was for a good cause. What is the purpose of flowers when no one can admire them?’ He was amazed by himself. She made him see things in a whole new perspective and it dazzled him. Gone was the stiff, strict and, he had to admit, rather dull Chantry Brother. Even in his, what he regarded as his “wild days”, he had never perceived there were not only several shades of grey between the black and white in which he used to observe the world, but a whole range of colours as well. She had really opened his eyes.

Merrill rose to her toes and kissed him. ‘Thank you. They are lovely. _You_ are lovely.’

He snaked an arm around her slender waist and kissed her back with tender passion. ‘Words cannot describe how wonderful you are,’ he said, truthfully. He had never excelled in poetry, and the meagre knowledge he possessed failed him completely at this moment. To make up for that shortcoming he held up a wicker basket instead. ‘How about going out on a picnic? I know a quiet, little beach at the Wounded Coast where we won’t get disturbed. We even could go swimming. I know you’d love that.’ He basked in her delighted reaction.

Merrill nearly squealed with enjoyment.

Minutes later they walked hand in hand through the city and Sebastian couldn’t care less about the strange, sometimes dirty looks they received. He didn’t know what the future held, so, just like Merrill, he was determined to make the most of the present.

-

‘One more time,’ said Isabela in a threatening voice, ‘if you say just one more time you don’t trust it, I swear I’ll bash your face in.’

‘Please don’t,’ Varric said while he and the pirate queen entered the Keep. ‘Bloodstains are so hard to remove from this fabric.’ He wore the official full dress of the Merchants’ Guild, which consisted mostly out of gold brocade, festooned with silver garlands. It made him look like a walking Satinalia tree.

‘If you want to keep that ridiculous suit of yours unblemished, I’d shut up, if I were you,’ Isabela said savagely. ‘I won’t take responsibility for my actions if you don’t. You are warned.’

The Keep’s staff stared open-mouthed at their appearance. Especially Isabela elicited reactions that covered the whole spectrum between shocked squeaks and drooling lechery. With a generous dollop of unveiled heated glances. The temperature seemed to rise several degrees.

‘Alright, alright,’ grumbled Varric, pretending not to notice all the attention, ‘you win. But if things go wrong, be prepared to be pestered with “I told you so’s” until your ears bleed.’

‘I’m pretty certain you won’t be given the chance,’ Isabela snarled back. But deep down she didn’t feel so sure.

-

Anders started running, his robes billowing, the feathers in disarray and losing touch with his pauldrons. He resembled a bird in moult, with all the fluttering feathers he left in his wake. He didn’t care one bit; loosing feathers was the least of his worries. Completely exhausted, after taking the Viscount’s Way in two steps at the time, he reached the entrance of the Keep. On pure willpower he coped with two more staircases and made it to the Viscount’s office. He took a deep breath and put his hands on the door to push it open.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frankly, I don’t like Sebastian very much in the game. He can really get on my nerves with his unctuously waffling. Sometimes I want to scream at the screen: “Your precious Maker has abandoned you all! What’s the point of your Chantry, you idiot! (By the way, that counts for all the religious nonsense.) And Andraste was no virgin by far!” But now and again he can make gentle and even witty remarks. So, I decided to accentuate that part and change him a little along the way. And I can’t help thinking that if he would have met the right woman, he would finally see the real light. By the way, the option of the chaste marriage between him and Hawke is, in my opinion, absolutely preposterous. But that is, of course, my personal view.
> 
> At any rate, thank you so much for reading!


	22. Chapter 22

Part 25: featuring two flabbergasted people and one very embarrassed Viscount

-

Viscount Dumar restlessly shuffled the papers lying on the desk in front of him. Nervously his eyes swivelled from the sombre-faced dwarf, decked out like an eccentric carnival, to the angry looking human woman, dressed like the embodiment of wild, sweltering sex. His eyes lingered on the latter for a moment too long. With might and main he fervently tried _not_ to stare at all those sultry curves on display. It was a hopeless endeavour in advance. He fingered the collar of his ceremonial robe and felt a few drops of sweat trickling down his neck. Which was certainly _not_ due to another warm day on this seemingly everlasting exceptionally hot summer. It was always cold in the Keep, no matter the weather, but he felt as if he was suffering from a bad fever. A fever of sudden and uninvited lust. He forced his attention back to the dwarf who kept attempting to peek at the official papers, and so he turned them upside down, giving him a stern look which, evidently, made no impression at all.

‘What the hell is taking them so long!’ exclaimed Isabela. It wasn’t the first time she uttered the sentence and, worse, with every new time she sounded more aggravated. And, even worse, brought out a hipflask to take a draught of something that, by the pungent smell of it, was the most strong and foul rum ever distilled. It didn’t do much to ease Dumar’s nerves; it made him only long for a swig himself, preferably licked from the breasts of – He couched nervously. It sounded as if he got strangled by a boa constrictor.

At that same moment, just before his tension snapped, the door swung open and the happy bride and groom strode into the office. They looked as innocent as a blank sheet of paper. But to the observant onlooker a light flush on both their faces revealed that said blank sheet could be filled in with, well, hot actions.

‘Finally!’ Isabela cried out. Irritably she waved with her flask in their direction. ‘What was so damned important that you kept us waiting for half a day?!’ Either she was too used to hot actions to even comment about the flush (of which was no doubt) or she was so het up and annoyed that the flush passed her attention altogether (which was more plausible.)

Without missing a beat Marian answered, ‘We couldn’t decide on the best position, so we tried them all. Never knew there were so many, took us more time than we expected. Sorry about that.’ She gave the stunned pirate an unperturbed look, though she couldn’t entirely hide a naughty twinkle. ‘You should have placed bets.’

Fenris tried to stick to his cool and collected composure. It was hard.

Marian’s attention swivelled from Isabela to Varric and a grin tugged at a corner of her mouth. ‘My, you have spared no expense to humour us. I must say I’m flattered. And impressed. My dear Isabela, that dress, or should I say napkin, shoots right through the borders of obscenity to end up on the stylish side of fashion. How do you manage it!  And where did you dig up that, er, eye-tormenting costume, Varric? Did the Guild of Fools have a summer sale? Or is it an heirloom from some since long deceased ancestor? The Funny Uncle type?’

Indignantly Varric drew himself up to his full height, which wasn’t much, but his haughty expression made more than up for that shortcoming. ‘I’ll have you know that this is the official ceremonial full dress of the Merchant’s Guild that I have, hitherto, refused to wear at all occasions. So, yes, you _should_ feel flattered. In fact, you should feel no less than honoured.’

The Viscount ostentatiously cleared his throat. ‘Since we’re all gathered at last, shall we commence with the ceremony?’ He wanted to get it over with as fast as possible so he could flee to his private rooms and have a cold bath. A very long very cold bath.

Hawke turned to him with her sweetest smile, which was quite an achievement, since she had spilled such a substantial amount of honey during the past few days already that it was a sheer wonder her blood sugar level hadn’t dropped dangerously low. ‘By all means.’

The man, on his account, gave her a quivering smile back. He was definitely at the end of his tether, what with fighting off a too inquisitive dwarf and battling the sexual tensions the pirate queen had stirred up. And with knowing what was about to happen. He looked down at the documents on his desk, turned them upright so he could actual read them, looked back at his audience, scraped his throat once more, eyed Hawke who gave him an encouraging wink, and started speaking. All the way Hawke silently prayed he would keep his wits together. Before their friends would catch the message and would run off to leave them empty-handed.

After a bunch of hollow words, sounding pompous but meaning little, Dumar finally came to the point. ‘If you would be so accommodating as to sign here,’ he said with a strained smile, indicating Varric and Isabela. He shot a desperate look at Hawke. ‘Because you are the witnesses, you have to sign first,’ he managed to explain.

The dwarf and the pirate queen looked at each other, plainly not at ease. ‘Why first?’ Varric demanded to know, and his whole attitude broadcasted he didn’t buy this unexpected turn of events. ‘Why not the bride and groom? I’m pretty sure that’s the right procedure.’

Marian tensed and saw their brilliant plan shatter to pieces. She knew Dumar had been the flaw in her plan, but had hoped he wouldn’t mess up as splendidly as he did now. What was he thinking, letting them sign first?! The blighted idiot!

But then the Viscount took up courage, strengthened by the knowledge he had endured more than enough from the illustrious couple that eyed him suspiciously, and that this was payback. He stood straight and explained, and his voice made clear there would be no room for a counter-attack whatsoever, ‘Because the Laws of Kirkwall say so.’ Confident by this clarification he straightened his shoulders some more and added daringly, ‘I can’t imagine a sophisticated Gentleman of the Stone doesn’t know that fact. Or a well educated Queen of the Waves, for that matter. I was under the impression you both were familiar with the laws of out treasured city.’

Varric deflated visibly. Scrupulously he raked his mind, but since his knowledge of the marital laws went as far as his own fantasy, he couldn’t waylay in all earnest Dumar’s firmly spoken words. Besides that, he couldn’t deny that “a sophisticated Gentleman of the Stone” had done a lot to flatter his ego. For a moment his eyes fluttered to Isabela, but it was clear he would find no assistance there. She looked as indecisive as he did. Of course, she knew as much as he about wedding ceremonials: nothing at all. He decided the Viscount must be right and took the pen the man offered him.

Hawke let out an inaudible sigh of relief; right now she could kiss the man. Who could have thought Viscount Dumar would have that much imagination..? Or a spine, in point of fact?

 _Or was scared to death by the murderous glare in your eyes_ , _which made him fly_ , was Fenris’s explanation, much later.

What counted, at this moment, was that both Varric and Isabela swallowed their objections and obediently took the quill and signed the contract.

-

‘And what do you think you’re doing?’

Aveline’s probing Guard-Captain’s voice, drenched with natural authority, froze Anders’s hand, already on the door handle and in the process of pushing the door open. He stiffened, suddenly feeling like a little mageling, caught in the middle of committing some mischief by an austere and bad-mooded Templar. Slowly he turned around, to come face to face with an impressive collection of ornamental steel, pretending to cover more exquisitely developed muscles than even Aveline possibly could boast, draped with a too bright sash sporting the coat of arms of Kirkwall and dripping with tassels, above which a pair of severe eyes made him shrivel even more.

‘She can’t marry him,’ he managed against all odds, be it croaking. ‘It would the biggest mistake of her life.’

Aveline didn’t budge. In fact, her look became even more severe. ‘Even if that were true, and I definitely doubt it, you still would have no right to prevent, or even disturb, the celebration of their marriage. Step away from that door. Now.’ She gave the impression she was handling a dangerous criminal, running rampant on whatever drug he had been snorting or smoking or injecting and who was waving a loaded crossbow at random to boot. He balked and wanted to protest. Loudly.

And only then he became aware of a host of guards behind Aveline’s back, standing neatly in line and all decked out in shiny, near blinding, armour and all of them with drawn swords. For one crazy moment he thought they were about to take him captive, until it crossed his mind they must represent some kind of Guard of Honour for the married couple. The insight didn’t anything to lift his mood, rather the opposite. The balking part took over. He clenched his jaw in an effort to resist Aveline’s overwhelming steadfastness. ‘And how do you think to prevent me from going inside and carry out my intension?’ he said defiantly.

Before Aveline could react, and she had a good whack around the ears in mind, there sounded a blood-curdling scream from inside the Viscount’s office. Without thinking she pushed the mage out of her way and barrelled inside.  She already opened her mouth to demand an explanation, but closed it abruptly when her eye fell on the outlandish tableau.

Viscount Dumar had stumbled backwards and now clung unto the heavy curtains for dear life with an expression of pure horror spread on his face. That very life got threatened by Varric, who was about to pounce upon him with a determined posture that made clear he would gladly sacrifice his whole career of both Storyteller and merchant to end the man’s existence, all the while shouting all kinds of dwarven swearwords no-one understood but that were intimidating and comprehensible enough without subtitles. On the other side of the room Fenris was holding Isabela’s arms in a firm grip in an attempt to keep her from flying at Hawke’s throat. The pirate viciously fought back.

‘You fucking bitch!’ she screeched at the top of her voice, which needed no subtitles at all.

-

_A few minutes earlier..._

Fenris gracefully signed his name and stepped back to stand beside Marian. ‘This brings back memories,’ he smiled crookedly. ‘Perhaps we can go camping later?’

‘I knew you secretly loved all the frolicking!’ Varric grinned deviously, blissfully oblivious of things to come.

‘Oh yes,’ said Fenris, straight-faced, ‘I can’t imagine why I resented it for so long. Frankly, I can’t wait to get in touch with my elven inner self once more. I’m even contemplating to become Dalish.’

Varric’s merry expression faltered somewhat. ‘No way. You’re kidding me.’

Fenris smiled enigmatically. ‘Who knows?’

The Viscount coughed politely. ‘You may kiss the bride now.’ He looked anxious but some sparks of the kindled fire of annoyance still lingered in his eyes.

Expectantly Varric and Isabela looked at the other pair. ‘Well, go ahead,’ Isabela spurred them on, ‘don’t worry, we’ve seen it all before. We won’t faint at the sight, promise.’

Hawke gave her a bright beam, although the sugar that formerly had gushed from her face seemed to have changed into drops of poison.

‘Actually,’ she drawled, ‘it is you who should kiss each other.’ She held out her hand. ‘May I be the first to formally congratulate you with your marriage? I hope it will be a prosperous and fruitful one and will last till death do you part.’

A heavy silence fell, pregnant with unrefined shock, sheer dread and fast approaching outbursts of fury.

‘You didn’t, you wouldn’t,’ stammered Isabela, the personification of terror. She staggered when the full blast of the betrayal hit her. She turned sharply and pointed an accusing finger at the Viscount. ‘And you knew, you fucking bastard! You played along all the way! “Well educated Queen of the Waves”, my ass!!’ She let out a terrifying scream and was about to attack Hawke with clawed hands. If it hadn’t been for Fenris’s lighting fast reaction, she would have ripped her face off.

-

_And back..._

Resolutely Aveline dragged the seething Varric from the Viscount’s very person before he could do real harm, besides scaring the man shitless. Literally, she feared by the smell of it. She held the dwarf in an iron grip while she convinced herself Isabela was still sufficiently incapacitated by Fenris. ‘Explain,’ she snarled.

‘Well,’ began Hawke, the only one not occupied with restraining enraged people or attempting to conceal embarrassing flaws in the bowel department, ‘in a nutshell it boils down to: they thought they were witnesses but now they’re married.’ She had retreated till she stood with her back against the door (unknowingly hindering Anders and Donnic to storm in) so she could keep an eye on both Isabela and Varric. And on the Viscount, should he suddenly try something bolder than hanging onto the curtains.

Aveline frowned. ‘It sounds like the start of some dreadful ballade. One of the kind Lousy Poet would come up with.’

‘I don’t think you’ve been listening properly,’ Hawke said, a little disappointed with Aveline’s lukewarm reaction. She felt some budges against her back but paid it no notice.

‘Oh, but I have been listening. I’m just trying to get my head around it.’ The Guard-Captain bit her lip in a desperate attempt to stop herself from bursting into a fit of laugher. She failed gloriously. It started with some badly suppressed titters but soon bloomed fully into loud and hearty guffaws. After a long minute of wallowing in shameless hilarity, she had to sit down and by doing so she forced Varric, whose wrists were still captured in her steel grip, more or less to kneel at her feet, an action that almost dislocated his shoulders.

‘Calm yourself, won´t you,’ he said crossly, ‘it’s not that funny.’ He realised at the same moment that her behaviour involuntarily had taken the sting out of his seething anger. ‘You can let go off me now,’ he grumbled. And Aveline did, but only to use his shoulders as some kind of counterpoint so she wouldn’t fall off her chair.

‘This is priceless!’ she managed between two bouts of hooting.

‘Oh really? How do you figure?’ Isabela ardently wished to know. She, just as Varric, had lost most of her fighting spirit due to the Guard-Captain’s uncharacteristic behaviour.

Hiccupping Aveline pointed a finger at her. ’Because, because, you! Whore! Professional strumpet! Legally wed!’

Irritably Isabela shook off Fenris’s firm grasp and said sharply, ‘It wouldn’t be the first time, you know, Captain Timid Maiden, and it didn’t end well for the other party.’ She continued darkly, indicating Hawke, ‘In this case I’m thinking about changing both my tactics _and_ victim.’

Hawke folded her arms and jutted out a hip. ‘It’s all but your own fault,’ she stated boldly. ‘The moment you tried to make Fenris and me believe we were married, you signed your wedding sentence.’

Varric freed himself from the Captain’s embrace. ‘So you found out,’ he said flatly.

Marian regarded him as if he was retarded. ‘Of course we found out! Who did you think you were dealing with?! It didn’t take us, or rather Fenris,’ she added conscientiously with a tiny smile at her lover, ’more than an hour to put two and two together. I must admit it was a nice touch, forging my own copy of the “Complete People’s Laws of Kirkwall”, but I’m afraid your work was for naught.’ She added, snorting haughtily, ‘And in the end you didn’t even know who had to sign first. Perhaps you should have read the laws more thoroughly before you copied them!’ She turned to Aveline. ‘Did you know about that?’

The Guard-Captain, not prepared for this sudden attack, had the decency to look embarrassed while she wiped the tears from her eyes. She was a lousy liar anyway.

‘I’m sorry, Hawke. I didn’t know at first, not at that night at the Hanged Man. But things had already gone completely out of hand and I’m afraid I couldn’t resist the dwarf’s plea.’ She took courage and heaved her shoulders. ‘Not after I became suspicious and he explained what he had done. Not after the incident with the parade armour.’ Her fierce demeanour wilted when she met Hawke’s concrete stare. She hastened to add, ‘But that doesn’t mean I don’t take responsibility.’

Hawke shook her head and looked very saddened. ‘And here I was, trusting you like you were my own flesh and blood. I’d never thought you would sink so low. And me with helping you to get your love life straight and all.’

Aveline sagged and slumped back into the chair. ‘I suppose I deserved that jab,’ she murmured, suddenly appearing rather forlorn. At the moment she completely forgot about how the other side of “my own flesh and blood” had delivered her mercilessly into the claws of the participants of that atrocious dinner. Simply Hawke’s piercing eyes could manage that.

Marian’s face brightened up at the sight of Aveline’s distressed face. ‘Oh, come on. Don’t fret. I suspected this all along. And if you hadn’t conspired together, we would never have come up with this plan. This brilliant plan, if I may say so myself.’ She walked over to the Guard-Captain and offered her a hand.

‘Yeah, really brilliant,’ grumbled Varric, who was still trying to cope with the situation. 

Only now Hawke had freed the door, Anders managed to venture into the room. He got overtaken by a very concerned Donnic. ‘Is everything alright Ave-, er, Captain?’

Hawke turned to him with a bright beam. ‘Besides a notch in her confidence I believe she’s right as rain.’

‘I need a drink,’ Varric announced. Wordlessly Isabela handed him her flask. ‘I told you I had a bad hunch, but you wouldn’t listen,’ he complained.

‘How was I supposed to know something like this would happen, _husband_?’ groused Isabela before she snatched the rum back.

Anders looked puzzled. ‘You, you are not married?’ he asked tentatively, trying to get a hold onto the facts.

‘We _are_ married, you dumb nitwit!’ Isabela snapped. She continued viciously, ‘But your precious Hawke is still free to your clumsy and stupid advances. I recommend you take advantage of that right now, for as long as she’s alive.’

‘Don’t even think about it,’ Fenris rumbled threatening. It was meant as a warning for both Isabela and Anders, though he was well aware he didn’t have to fear anything from either of them. The first he could keep in control with just a firm grasp, the latter would never stand a chance with Marian. Nevertheless, the mage ruffled his feathers, as he always did. Just his existence made his mood run sour. ‘What are you doing here in the first place?’

Again Aveline burst into laughter. Even the short moment of shame, together with Donnic’s worried look, didn’t do anything to temper her merry, near hysterical jolly mood. Helplessly she fluttered her hand. ‘Preventing you two getting wed!’ Apparently she was, apart from Hawke, the only one who saw the joke of the situation.

Fenris, busy with coping with his sudden annoyance, glared such malicious daggers at Anders that the mage actually staggered back. Anders, while making an effort at fencing off the elf’s murderous glower, didn’t know what to make of the turn of events and was not certain Hawke and the elf weren’t married after all. Donnic wasn’t convinced some lethal outburst was about to happen and looked like it. And Varric and Isabela were still too wrapped up in anger and shock to see the joke of anything at all. Possibly for a long time.

No-one paid Viscount Dumar any attention anymore and he seized the opportunity to sneak off and make a run for his private chambers, determined to stay in bath for the rest of the day, although he had changed his mind about the temperature of the water. It would be a hot bath, not a cold one. His unforeseen embarrassing accident had dampened his formal primal urgent and now only asked for a lot of warm water and even more soap. He fervently prayed nobody had noticed his little mishap. He would never hear the end of it, especially if Seneschal Bran got wind of it; the prig would never let it go.

Marian, desperately trying to stifle the merry laughter that welled up in her chest, walked over to her lover and laid a soothing hand on his arm.  ‘Let’s go home,’ she giggled. ‘I think I’m in need of a strong drink after all the commotion.’ She hooked her arm into Fenris’s and started to lead him out of the room. Turing her head and looking over her shoulder she said to the rest of the company, ‘In case you’ve forgotten: you’re all invited to the party my _lover_ and I will throw tonight. And, Varric, please do come. We have a little surprise for you.’

‘Another bombshell?’ groused Varric morosely. ‘I don’t think I can handle that.’

‘You’ll be amazed,’ Marian promised.

She managed to keep a straight face all along the way to her mansion before she doubled up in the hallway, desperately clutching her belly.

In the meantime Fenris had decided his fretting over Anders’s fruitless attempts to get to Marian was too juvenile to speak of, let alone he’d fuss about it any further. But he had seen the murderous look in both Varric’s and Isabela’s eyes and he drew his own conclusion. While he led Marian to the library, where they knew Bodahn had left a bottle of Aggrigio  Parvali for them to enjoy, he thought about how to put his thoughts into words after she had done laughing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry, I couldn’t help a hint at my most favourite author. Terry Pratchett may not be among us any longer, his soul and his legacy still linger on. Forever, I hope.
> 
> I hope as well the outcome of this chapter wasn’t too obvious; it’s hard to judge when you make it up yourself.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still very busy with moving to another place, and, to my amazement, still have access to the internet. So, I’m posting as long as that blissful situation lingers on.
> 
> Enjoy!

Part 26: we travel on from a concerned and slightly relieved Grand Cleric, along a still highly affronted dwarf to an abrupt decision. Which decision is anyone’s guess.

-

It had taken Elthina all kinds of elusive maneuvers and sneaking around the most obscure parts of the Chantry to avoid Sister Geofride’s persistent clutches. It had been exhausting. Almost as exhausting as listening to her unrelentingly nagging about Sebastian’s, apparently numerous, flaws. By now she wondered if Sebastian had eloped solely because of that woman’s tiresome existence. She couldn’t blame him if he had. The woman was insufferable in her one-sided righteousness that leaned dangerously close to bigotry. Maker forbid she ever would rise to the rank of Mother.

This afternoon she had told her second in command she would go out, and after that had literally locked herself in her study. It was the only way to find some hours of peace and quiet. Of course she worried about Sebastian but she could safely state that, in her case, it was genuine worry; not some foul gossip and prejudice _dressed up_ like worry.

And then she caught him from the corner of her eye, standing on the balcony, making urgent gestures. Abruptly she stood up to open the glass doors and ushered him hastily in to shield him from Geofride’s view. Maybe she was getting paranoid, but the woman had eyes everywhere. Almost literally, with that small intelligence army of orphans under her command – wings, she corrected herself in a hurry.

Before Sebastian even had the chance to open the negotiations, she quite brusquely asked, ‘Care to explain what is going on?’ Despite all the one-sided righteousness, bigotry and paranoia Elthina tried to fend off, Sister Geofride’s boisterous accusations had worked havoc on her nerves. But she backed down when she saw his expression. A whole pallet of emotions was showing on his face. Remorse, excitement, embarrassment, and, above all, utmost happiness.

‘I’m in love,’ he simply said.

Elthina closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Please, take a seat,’ she said, sitting down herself, if only because she didn’t trust her legs after that straightforward declaration.

‘And I know you don’t agree,’ Sebastian went on, ignoring her invitation, ‘but this is the real thing.’

She opened her eyes again and after some hefty deliberation decided that bursting into a rant was not a solution in this particular challenging situation. Especially not since his face oozed nothing but plain honesty and sincere happiness. It could very well be true what he so boldly stated. In any case he looked like it.

‘And what makes you think so?’ she nevertheless informed with all the calm she could muster. To her annoyance her voice sounded rather shrill and wavering.

Sebastian sent her a smile the like she had never seen on his face before. It was a smile that came directly from his heart. She feared even more he spoke the truth. _And would that be so bad?_ she chastised herself. _It could be the best that ever happened to him._ If _he is sincere._ And for that very reason, because there was still doubt in her heart, despite that smile, she almost lost her nerves. _What if it turns out to be another whim? What if_ – Her panicky train of thoughts was brought to an abrupt halt by his next words.

‘Because she touched my soul,’ he said silently.

For a moment Elthina sat speechless. It was a phrase she only had heard uttered by people who had found sudden but blissful peace after they had embraced Andraste. She wanted to tell him harshly that this was near to blasphemy and that she wouldn’t tolerate such words in relation to a fling, but he beat her to it.

‘I know what you want to say. But this is how I feel it. She touched my soul and set my heart alight. It came so unexpectedly, I never imagined something like this to happen.’ If possible, his smile became even more heavenly. And pensively. ‘I never experienced something like this in my life. Not even when I finally accepted the quiet Chantry life.’ His expression suddenly became emotional, almost pained. ‘And speaking of the Chantry: Andraste wasn’t a virgin. So why doesn’t the Chantry allow sexual relationships?’

Elthina suppressed a tormented groan. This was what she had feared; now he sounded like a little stubborn boy who didn’t get his way. At least in her ears he did. She wanted to berate him but caught just in time his infectiously shining eyes. So, instead she stood up again, walked around the desk, took his hand and led him to the chair opposite her bureau and forced him gently down. ‘Is this what it’s all about? Sex?’ She knew that couldn’t be true, not after seeing his face, glowing with bliss.

‘No!’Sebastian vehemently cried out. ‘It’s not! It’s something she said and I can’t stop thinking about. She pointed out Andraste was married and had children and that she couldn’t understand why the Chantry Sisters and Brothers have to be chaste. I always swallowed it as the one and only way, as the inevitable truth that came with dedicating yourself to the Chantry, but she made me see how silly that is. She made me see there _is_ not a one and only and ultimate truth.’

‘You know very well Andraste became the Maker’s bride,’ Elthina started an old lesson, because she couldn’t think of anything else to put forward, but got cut off at the same moment.

‘So what? The Maker is so inhumane he doesn’t allow perfectly normal feelings and urges? Is that what you want to say?’ Sebastian all but shouted. He jumped up, agitatedly waving his hand around. ‘That he doesn’t understand one bit of whom and what we are and _we_ have to suffer for those shortcomings? Or is he just too jealous to share? Which would be very human!’ he added passionately. He drew back his hand and rubbed his face with it. ‘Forgive me,’ he said meekly. ‘I’m rather shaken.’

‘So I notice,’ Elthina mumbled, feeling shaken herself. She smiled faintly. ‘Please, take that seat again and we can talk about the girl you claim to love.’ She still couldn’t fully get her head around it and kept feeling rather dazed. She went back to her own chair and slowly sat down. ‘I’m afraid I can’t offer you any apple tart. I had to use it as bait to remove Sister Geofride from my office.’ The remark didn’t make any sense at all in the current circumstances and she had to suppress a nervous giggle.

‘I _do_ love her,’ Sebastian said with earnest emphasis. He didn’t even react to the name of the orphans’ guardian, which left Elthina even more befuddled. ‘And yes, I made love to her but it was not out of lust.’ He caught her eye and had the decency to blush. ‘Well, of course there was lust,’ he murmured and then put up courage again. ‘But that was not the main reason. The main reason was I couldn’t resist her because I care so much for her. Because she’s not only beautiful, but lovely and gentle as well. And because she listens to me and put things in a whole, bright new perspective. She opened my eyes and with that she opened my heart.’

After this heated and firm avowal, his eyes became dreamily, Elthina noticed. She was touched by his words. _He has caught a bad case of infatuation_ , she thought. _I suppose that, at least, is one good thing about this troubling situation_. _Better an infatuation than murderous revenge._ She realised all too well this didn’t do any credit to Sebastian’s sincere affirmation of the deep and honest love he carried for this girl she didn’t even know, but she felt confused and rattled. ‘And now?’ she asked weakly. ‘What are you planning to do?’

He looked at her with such lost puppy eyes that she almost wanted to put her arms around him. ‘I honestly don’t know,’ he said. ‘I want to stay with her for the rest of my life, and I’m fairly sure she feels the same, but that means I’ll have to leave the Chantry. That is a big step.’ He added, almost apologetically, ‘I didn’t want to burden you. But you’ve been like a mother to me from the moment I set foot in this Chantry, and I needed you to know how I feel.’

 _I really, really hope the girl is worth it_ , she thought. _At least I don’t have to explain this to his parents_ , came a second thought. She immediately felt ashamed, but, well, she was only human, after all. And all the things Sebastian had thrown at her over the last few minutes made the foundations of her beliefs, even of her very existence, tremble as if an earthquake had hit them. She let out a wholehearted sigh.

‘You don’t have to make that decision overnight. Please take your time to think about it, don’t do anything impulsive.’ At the same moment she realised he had made that decision already and she simply had to deal with it. And was that really so bad? Yes, he had been some kind of personal project, from the moment his father had dumped him, kicking and screaming, in her Chantry. He had grown since then. Had grown from a rebellious youth into a steady, devotional and caring man. But if that care and devotion brought him into the arms of a woman who appreciated such personality, and, most of all, made him radiate pure happiness, who was she to protest? Geofride could go and suck an egg with her short-minded attitude, she thought defiantly and not at all “Your Grace” like.

Almost to Sebastian’s dread there appeared a sudden twinkle in Elthina’s eyes and she nearly grinned when she added, ‘Although “Impulsive” is as good as your middle name, isn’t it? A shame I didn’t get the opportunity to christen you. I suppose you intend to go back to her right now?’

Sebastian swallowed with difficulty. ‘If you really oppose ...’ He straitened his back. ‘No. I don’t ask for your blessing, or even permission. This is my decision and I am more than happy with it. But I wanted you to know about it,’ he boldly stated. ‘That much you deserve.’ He had wanted to plainly tell her he was here to renounce his vows, but at the last moment that had proved to be too difficult. Although, regarding the near mischievous look she gave him, she already knew and was fine with it. As long as he was sincere. Which he was.

Elthina suppressed a chuckle; she recognised his stubborn determination. She reached over the desk and, like Hawke before her, she patted his hand. ‘I will have to meet the girl before there will be any blessing,’ she said. ‘But, as a friendly advice, buy her some flowers.’

He looked pensively at her. ‘Odd,’ he mumbled, ‘you’re the second one to mention that. As if I’m not capable to come up with that idea myself.’

She stood to bid him farewell and to her surprise he kissed her cheek, before his took his leave along the balcony.

She lowered herself in her chair again, a little unsteadily. _The boy is in love_ , she thought and was astonished at the tender feelings it stirred up. _He said I’m like a mother to him_. She smiled. _And like every mother I worry for him. And want him to be happy._

She leant back and let out a deep sigh.

-

Sebastian returned to the alley where Merrill was anxiously waiting for him. It had been her idea to talk to Elthina, or at least she had urged him on to do so. Had pushed him over the threshold, so to speak. ‘You have to put her mind at rest. And yours, evidently,’ she had stated with those bright shining eyes of hers. And with that she had touched his only still drifting concern and at the same time had relieved it. She had known what troubled him, deep down. Of course she had. And he loved her even more for it.

‘How did it go?’ she asked with bated breath. ‘Was she very disappointed?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Sebastian answered, a little pensively and still a little off balance. But just the sight of her brought his stability back. He was touched by her choice of word; she could have used “angry”, or “desolated”. Instead she said “disappointed”, which exactly laid bare the fear he had felt for the confrontation with Elthina. Because disappointment would have been so much worse than anger.

He laid a hand upon her face and tenderly rubbed her cheekbone with his thumb. ‘I’ve been honest with her, as honest as possible. I told her this is about love, real love. Because that’s the truth, isn’t it?’ A sudden panicky look appeared in his eyes.

Merrill giggled softly and affectionately touched the fingers lingering upon her cheek. ‘It’s all very strange and confusing but I think you’re right.’ She smiled brightly and whispered conspiratorially, ‘This morning I danced in my kitchen.’

He had to laugh at that. ‘With a wreath of flowers in your hair, I bet.’

‘There don’t grow flowers in the Alienage, sadly,’ she answered and then the words “flowers” and “bet” triggered a memory. In shock she covered her mouth with her hand. ‘Oh! We’ve all forgotten about Hawke’s and Fenris’s marriage! That was today, wasn’t it?!’

Sebastian frowned, trying to do the maths. ‘I ... yes. I think you’re right.’ His face crunched. ‘I’m afraid we missed it. Oh damn, how stupid!’

At once he felt guilty. He didn’t even got aware of the small curse that had slipped his mouth.  He had thouhtlessly run to Fenris to spill his happiness that had gone hand in hand with anxiety and utter confusion, causing a massive commotion, and at the moment his friend pledged his love and loyalty to his woman, he was conspicuous by his absence. He groaned out loud.

Merrill rose to her toes to kiss him. ‘I believe they throw a party this night. It’s not too late to tell Fenris you’re happy for him.’

He drew her close, thinking again how remarkable it was she could read him so well. He smiled in her hair that smelled of lavender. ‘Then let’s go and dress for the occasion,’ he said. ‘It’s the least we can do.’ And he added, smirking, ‘I’ll buy you some flowers so you can wear a wreath tonight. You’ll look more lovely than the bride.’

-

There hung a strange atmosphere in the Viscount’s office. The five people still present lingered about as if they didn’t know what to do next, now the not-bride-and-groom and the Viscount himself had taken their leave and they were stuck in the aftermath of the unforeseen events.

Outside on the landing the Guard of Honour were visibly at a loss. Most of them had hastily raised their swords when Hawke and Fenris came running through the door. For naught, they realised in frustration, not moments later. But now they merely milled confused about, their strict order ruined. Nothing had gone in the way they had expected it would. And, atop of that, they were curious about the alarming sounds that had come from the Viscount’s office. Most of them still strained their ears, hoping to catch something juicy to gossip about. Even guards can be human.

‘I told you so,’ Varric grumbled morosely in the meantime. ‘I told you they were planning something devilish but would you listen? No!’

‘Oh just shut up, you old bore,’ bitched Isabela. ‘How was I suppose to know they would sink so low?!’ Glumly she shook her flask, hoping against hope there would be a drop of rum left.

‘Well,’ Aveline chipped in, ‘you’re already sounding like an old married couple. I suppose you’ll be getting the hang of it in no time.’ With all her might she suppressed an upcoming giggle.

‘I told you so,’ Varric repeated.

‘Yes, you already mentioned that,’ said Isabela, as snarky as she could manage. In the meantime she wondered if she’d got a chance to break open the Viscount’s liquor cabinet without Aveline pouncing upon her with plain, boring righteousness. After all, she could put forward this was an emergency. And this emergency in particular screamed for a soothing dose of alcohol. More doses of alcohol. As much alcohol, in fact, as her system could handle, and more. She’d happily pass out to forget about the rotten situation for a few blissful hours. She didn’t doubt for one second the Viscount himself was, right at this very moment, gulping down generous amounts of whisky or brandy. One didn’t cope with a furious dwarf attack just like that.

‘I warned you,’ Varric grumbled mulishly on, ‘I warned you I’d say “I told you so” till your ears would bleed if things would go wrong. I don’t see them bleed yet. So: I told you so I told you so I told-‘

‘Shut up!’ thundered Aveline, beyond the urge to giggle right now and dangerously fast moving into Annoyance Avenue. And no-one could thunder like her. ‘Get yourself together, man!’

‘Dwarf,’ mumbled Varric defiantly.

Aveline, pretending not to have heard, turned to Anders. ‘And you, stop sulking! You have nothing to sulk about. Maker! You remind me of Fenris in his bad days! Just go home, the three of you, and get dressed properly for tonight’s party.’

The “you remind me of Fenris” part stung heavily but Anders couldn’t muster the courage to waylay the Guard Captain. He slumped and involuntarily started thinking about any attire he owned that would be appropriate for the evening to come. Halfway his contemplations he brightened up. Aveline was right; he had nothing to sulk about. Hawke hadn’t married the rabid dog. He straightened his shoulders. There was still hope. He knew very well this was mostly the whisky talking but he wished to ignore that. Justice remained silent. That, at least, was something to savour.

‘Party!’ groused Varric. He still couldn’t believe Hawke and Fenris had gone this far to get back to them. It was like looping around a volcano and give the mountain a evil nudge to explode. Moreover, he couldn’t believe they had talked the Viscount into it and that the man had had the guts to agree.

‘At least there will be alcohol,’ mused Isabela, cheering up at the prospect.

‘See,’ said Aveline, ‘there’s the silver lining. Come on, Donnic, let’s head back to the Barracks to get changed ourselves.’ _Before I get another fit of laughter_ , she thought, _and make a complete fool of myself in front of all my men._

She should have known better, with a half-drunk and revengeful pirate whore around.

‘Don’t forget to bend her over a basin!’ Isabela yelled after them with wicked glee, not a heartbeat after they had passed the doorstep to the hall, so she could be certain all of the guardsmen heard her words. ‘I think she needs a serious tumble!’ There was no ignoring that, not even for the ones that fervently tried, red ears and all.

Aveline stiffened. Gods! _I’ll strangle you for this, you piece of shit!_ Instead she took her anger out on her innocent guardsmen. _What now, innocent?!_ She’d strangle them too, if they had the heart to utter one wrong word.

‘What are you doing here?’ she growled hotly at the lingering about, now sneakily sniggering Guard of Honour. ‘Get back to your duties! Right now!’

Without thinking Donnic caught her arm, unless she’d do something impulsive and totally inappropriate. Like storming back into the Viscount’s office and knocking the pirate queen flat out in front of all the witnessing eyes of the present guardsmen. ‘Perhaps we better share a glass of brandy, before, er, changing,’ he said soothingly, and gently started to lead her to the barracks.

To her own surprise Aveline let him.

Without knowing Donnic, at that very moment, won the everlasting admiration of all the Guard.

-

Fenris sat on the table in the library of the Amell Estate, a glass of wine in his hand and with his feet resting on a chair. He stared at the dark blue leather shoes that clad his feet; an uncommon and even confusing sight. But for her sake he had decided he’d wear them through the evening of activities she had planned. Just as he still wore the outfit she had bought for him.

Although...

Absently he waltzed the wine around in his glass while he went over an idea, or better: proposition that he had mentioned some time ago. He thought this was the right time to do something with it. Before it would be too late. He only hoped she still remembered and, more importantly, would agree.

‘Is this the outcome you had hoped for?’ he cautiously opened the negotiations.

Marian was listlessly perusing the spines on the bookshelves without really reading the titles and looked up startled. Her cheery mood had waned a while ago and only a faint strain in the muscles of her abdomen reminded of her shameless outburst of merriment. Right now that merriment had waned and she stood thinking about the consequences their deed could carry. She didn’t feel that cheery anymore.

( _Her_ deed. If she was completely honest, it was solely _her_ deed. Fenris had little to do with it and she felt wretched about it. He had uttered his worries and misery and she had just brushed them aside without taking his feelings really into consideration. What a complete and utter twat she had been.)

She had come to the conclusion it would be nothing jolly. She had pictured a grovelling and feeling very sorry Varric and Isabela. The outcome had sooner been the opposite. The wretchedness increased.

‘Not exactly,’ she confessed meekly. ‘I had anticipated they would be angry, of course, but not murderously angry. For a moment I feared there would be fatal casualties.’ She left the books alone and walked over to him and almost absentmindedly started to draw her fingers through his silken white hair. Touching his hair always put her at ease. ‘I was convinced this would be the end of it. That it would make them think twice about further repercussions, so that they’d leave us in peace at last. But now I’m not so sure anymore.’ She let out a deep sorrowful sigh. ‘You were right all along. This will never stop.’ Pensively she bit her lip. ‘And it’s all my fault,’ she added remorsefully. ‘I should have put an end to it after our so clever thought through acts of revenge.’

She thought back at the unsavoury situation at the Chantry Square and shivered involuntarily. No, Varric certainly hadn’t been aware of what he had caused her that afternoon. She couldn’t blame the dwarf. And thus she should have laughed about it, shaken it off, although that would perhaps have been too difficult. But at least she should have been satisfied with what revenge they had come up with. But no, she had wanted to press on, to take it even further. And she had dragged Fenris into it with her. He was the one and only victim.

She was about to tell him that, when he looked up at her with that little enigmatic smile she could, in the meantime, read all too well. Her already opened mouth snapped shut. Whatever he was about to say, she was willing to go with it. Even if it would bring her to the end of the world. She wanted to drown her misery and feelings of guilt in that beautiful honey-brown, lopsidedly smiling face. In that silvery, impossible soft hair her fingers still lingered in.

‘I told you before, more or less, you shouldn’t feel guilty,’ he said in that undoing warm and at the same time husky, rough velvet tone that made her shiver. ‘I’m as much to blame as you are.’

He forestalled her predictable protest by letting his fingers touch her cheek and letting them travel along her face. To his satisfaction he felt her calm down. ‘There is a solution, if we aim for peace and quiet.’

Confused Marian stared at him, until apprehension dawned. Indeed she remembered his words from many weeks earlier, uttered in the peaceful environment of his neglected garden. When they were sitting under the grown wild magnolia with a cooled bottle of white wine close at hand. When they were gloating upon all the payback and things were still so clear and simple. A bright smile started to unfold along her lips and suddenly her whole expression radiated noting but brilliant happiness.

‘Are you thinking what I am thinking?’ said Fenris tentatively, still caressing her face.

And then that face bloomed into a full and mischievous grin, making him inwardly sigh with relief...

‘You bet I am,’ Hawke beamed. ‘It was the best idea you ever came up with! I should have heeded it back then. To be honest, I’m enormously looking forward to it. So stupid I didn’t think about it myself.’ She kissed him tenderly. ‘I suppose I was too carried away. I simply needed you to guide me back on track. You’re so wonderful!’

He blinked his eyes but before he could recuperate she breathlessly added, ‘But we will need assistance.’

Suiting the action to her words, she turned around and yelled, excitedly, ‘Bodahn!’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must confess this story has totally got away with me. I wanted to add some more chapters to “It started with a Kiss” and look where it has brought me, twenty-three chapters later, and still not an end to it. That’s what writing and imagination can do to you. I’m baffled. But, as long as you’re reading my scribblings, and liking it, I’ll soldier on. 
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comments! That’s what’s keeping this story alive. D:


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 27: some people get confronted with very unexpected surprises. And what happens in Kirkwall may stay in Kirkwall, the same counts for Rivain.
> 
> Enjoy!

From the corner of his eye Varric glared suspiciously at the bottles and dishes on the buffet-table as to estimate how big the gloating crowd would be. He was ambling aimlessly about the parlour of the Amell estate. To say he was feeling ill at ease, was to say that the crew on a fragile ship were slightly worrying about a fast approaching devastating hurricane.

The room was beautifully decorated with green bows and lots of bright flowers, but the dwarf managed to notice nothing of it. His head was still a whirlpool of strong emotions, with unrefined anger and pure desperation battling for the first prize, and he had no time, or mind, to admire the scenery.

-

Earlier that day he had returned to the Hanged Man with an uncharacteristically silent Isabela in tow. Along the way home he had made a rather lame effort at discussing the godsdamned marriage ( _marriage!_ The word alone brought raw panic about) with the pirate. His lawfully wedded wife. _His lawfully wedded_ _wife._ The moment he had felt the bile rise, he determinedly clenched his jaw and with all his might tried not to puke. Thankfully the uncomfortable silence due to Rivaini’s refusal to respond got filled with market vendors loudly recommending their wares, the common crowd loudly bickering – with occasional fights breaking out –, some guardsmen loudly intervening and the general hubbub of everyday life in Lowtown.

He had feared beforehand that Isabela would not be willing to react to his awkward attempt to openly assess the damage that was done, but instead would simply dismiss the tricky subject with just a murderous scowl. He had not had the heart to press on. Well, he had tried, hadn’t he? It was not his fault she didn’t want to cooperate.

The moment they entered the tavern Isabela had made a beeline for the counter and had with a dark voice demanded a bottle of rum. Corff had handed her the asked for item without any comment whatsoever. Varric wondered if the bartender already knew, or if he simply reacted on impulse, spurred on by Isabela’s expression and being too scared to get his throat torn out if he didn’t accommodate right away. He had made that mistake a couple of years ago, in the days he didn´t know the pirate that well yet, and had sported a black eye for over a week to pay for his insolence. Or perhaps he was still absolutely smashed by her nearly-but-just-not over the top sinful strapless curves hugging red dress. Even in his dismal state of mind Varric recognized the expression of lust mixed with panic in the defenceless bartender’s eyes.

Angrily Varric had stomped upstairs; he couldn’t get rid of his ridiculous suit soon enough. This morning it had almost seemed some kind of joke to come dressed to kill, but right now he felt like a fool in his eccentric apparel. Worse even: the glittering outfit had involuntarily become his wedding suit. Again he had suppressed the urge to vomit.

For a time he had stared glumly at his image in the mirror. ‘There you are with all your cleverness,’ he had muttered irritably. ‘You’ve proved to be more gullible than the first swooning overly romantic noble-bred maiden in Hightown. They’ve outwitted you on all fronts.’ He had wanted to hit himself but had resisted the urge. He had already to cope with his broken pride; a broken nose wouldn’t improve the situation.

He had left Isabela alone for a couple of hours, before he could muster the courage to go downstairs and take her with him to the Amell Estate. Because no way in the world would he avoid the festivities over there. In the dragon’s den, he thought mordantly. Again he stared at his reflection in the mirror, after he had changed into his old familiar tunic. With some satisfaction he regarded his flourishing chest hair and straightened his back.

‘May the Deep Roads swallow me and Orzammar drag me back under the Frostback Mountains before I give the culprits even more opportunity to snicker behind my back,’ he grumbled morosely while he exited his suite. ‘A Tethras will never back away from a challenge or danger and always will face his enemies with his head held high.’ Determinedly he added, ‘I’ll give them a run for their money, damn it.’

The first obstacle in that firm resolution he stumbled upon was his – was a very drunk Isabela.

‘Oh look!’ she tittered when he entered the taproom, and her wide swaying arm almost made her fall off her stool. ‘There’s my sweet hubbie!’ With a hiccup she turned to Corff who looked like personified pure terror. ‘Have I told you already we’re married? No? Let me tell you, he’s, heezz, uh, heezz ... zjweet. Yes, veeeerry zjweet. And tasty. Look at him! All that, all that, that hair on hisj, hisj ... I’m a lucky girl,’ she concluded while she slowly started to keel over.

As fast as he could Varric rushed over and with force caught the pirate queen around the waist to prevent her from falling flat on her face. It just made things worse.

Isabela clung onto him and one way or another managed to drag her fingers through his chest hair before he could swat her hand away. ‘Oh dear husband!’ she giggled, to Varric’s chagrin. ‘My dear prince of wonders! Shooo gallant!’ After another hiccup she added, ‘I wonder how long it will last!’

Varric couldn’t remember he had ever seen her this drunk before. More than often he had underwent her tipsy moods, but, no matter how many drams she had knocked back, her playful flirting never had gone further than hinting  at what she would like to do with his chest hair. Never before she had had the audacity to really drag her fingers through his lustrous wall-to-wall. He was shocked.

‘Not long, if you keep this up,’ he growled, which only made Isabela laugh harder and, moreover, take him in a suffocating embrace. Sweet Ancestors! How was it possible this day still went from bad to worse?! With some serious effort he removed her smothering arms while trying at the same time to keep her stable on her stool. It was an enterprise of herculean magnitude.  Nevertheless Varric pulled it off to turn to the barman while acting as a buttress for Isabela’s swaying body. ‘Coffee,’ he ordered, ‘as strong as you can make it. And a gallon of water. We must sober her up before accidents happen.’

‘Even more accidents?’ had Corff mumbled while he, somewhere between dread and astonishment, witnessed how the dwarf endured the pirate’s intimate manhandling. But he had turned and run off to do Varric’s bidding after a particularly hateful scowl. He could cope with only so many of those on one day, after all.

It had taken the both of them near two hours to drag Isabela off her stool and dunk her head several times over into a barrel of cold water, while they simultaneously tried to dribble strong coffee into her mouth, before the pirate queen had more or less come to her senses again.

‘I am not going to apologize because I’m not sorry,’ she had grumbled, roughly staying in character this time. ‘This is simply too much to take.’

‘I know,’ Varric had reacted, ‘but, please, go easy on the booze for the rest of the day. More alcohol won’t solve the problem.’

After that they had ventured into Hightown, to make their somewhat dishevelled and, in case of Isabela, moist appearance at the Hawke estate.

-

Right now Varric was still circling the parlour. Their backstabbing hosts had not shown themselves yet, so he tried to keep an eye on the stairs and simultaneously on the front door to spot arriving unwelcome guests. It gave him a squint and a headache but he became none the wiser. And up till now no other guests had shown, besides a sill gloomy looking Anders, who apparently had managed to find some robes that weren’t moulting, Aveline and Donnic, who very hard tried to look as if they hadn’t heeded Isabela’s cheerful challenge, and a silently giggling Merrill who was accompanied by a flush looking Sebastian who fervently held on to the small elf’s shoulders. He had not yet been able to figure out that strange behaviour and, frankly, he had other troubles to worry about right now. He categorised it under “things to do” and paid it no further interest for the time being.

Then Bodahn appeared from the kitchen. The steward walked over to the buffet-table, picked up a glass and tapped it with a spoon. It was a classic example of demanding attention and of course it worked. Varric noticed the other dwarf carried something that suspiciously looked like an important document under his arm and it stirred his curiosity, although he wasn’t certain he could handle more documents on this already weighty day.

‘Messeres,’ Bodahn started when all the faces were fixed on him, ‘I have a message from Messere Hawke and Messere Fenris.’

‘A message?’ let Varric slip. ‘What do you mean, “a message”? Are you saying they don’t have the guts to show themselves?!’ He started to get angry. More angry. He hadn’t thought it would be possible.

Unperturbed Bodahn went on, ‘They asked me to tell you they’re very sorry they can’t be present tonight, but expressed the hope you will enjoy yourselves nevertheless.’ With his free arm he waved at the buffet-table, loaded with drinks and dishes. ‘They, and my boy and I, have done everything possible to please you and we hope you’ll appreciate it.’

‘Then, where are they?’ Aveline asked, obviously as puzzled as the rest of them.

Bodahn smiled enigmatically. ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you. They specifically asked me to keep their whereabouts a secret. In case of unwanted visitors,’ he added with some venom. He turned to lay a paper on the buffet-table behind him, and only now Varric noticed he had held two. To his surprise Bodahn, when he turned back to his audience, addressed him personally and offered him the paper still resting in his hand.

‘Messere Hawke asked me to give you this,’ he said. ‘She said you would enjoy it very much.’

A little cautious Varric accepted, not certain the paper would explode on touching. ‘Did she now.’ After a rather ugly and distrustful look aimed at Bodahn he started to read.

His eyes grew wider and wider while he skimmed the text. ‘By the mighty stones of all my ancestors!’ he finally cried out. ‘I can’t believe this!’ Vaguely he remembered Hawke had mentioned something about a surprise before she took her leave from the Viscount’s office, but never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined it would be _this_.

‘What?’ said Isabela suspiciously. ‘What have they been concocting this time?’

Varric swallowed hard. And then, in one breath, he blurted, ‘They bought the Hanged Man and put the deed in our names. As a wedding present.’

‘Give me that.’

Without ceremony Isabela snatched the document out of the dwarf’s hands and started reading herself. ‘There must be some catch. They will want us to consummate the marriage first. They will want us to produce offspring. Something like that.’ But even after she had thoroughly scanned the text she could found nothing amiss. She got more agitated by the minute. ‘This can’t be! There must be a clause, there must be a snag at it. This is a trap.’ She looked up and sharply turned to Bodahn. ‘That other document, the one you sneakily put away, hand it over! That must hold the undoubtedly horrid conditions!’

Guardedly Bodahn took a step back. ‘No madam,’ he said. ‘That document is meant for the Messeres Sebastian and Merrill.’

Sebastian stirred surprised. ‘For us?’ Captivated he had followed Varric’s reaction and thought it was typical for Hawke’s generous nature to come up with something like this. Hesitantly he took the document meant for Merrill and him. And moments later found out not only Hawke had been magnanimous. He looked from the document to Merrill and gave her an uncertain smile. Expectantly Merrill looked back at him.

‘Well?’ snapped Isabela impatiently. ‘What does it say? Are we supposed to share the revenues of the Hanged Man with you? Is that the trick? Or are _you_ the ones supposed to produce offspring?’ The moment the words caught up with her ears, the enormity of their significance dealt a nasty blow and her eyes flew open, but before she could say any more stupid things, Varric silenced her.

Because in the meantime the cogs in his brain had started working industriously and had solved the puzzle on his short “to do” list. The outcome left him flabbergasted. Viciously he nudged the pirate queen in the lower ribs.  ‘Shut up!’ he hissed. How had he not seen this coming? How long had this been going on? He wanted to whack himself, for the second time this day. Some keen storyteller he was!

Sebastian, in his confusion, paid neither of them any attention. He put a hand on Merrill’s arm and said, ‘Fenris has officially bought the mansion and he gives it to us.’

Merrill made a small squeaking sound. Her cheeks obtained a warm blush.

‘He says in this letter,’ Sebastian went on, dazzled, ‘because we will need a place to live, since I will leave the Chantry, and he thinks the shack in the Alienage is no proper alternative. He says that he hopes we will be happy.’ He swallowed back sudden tears. ‘Fenris, of all people,’ he mumbled. Fenris, who had been so upset when he told him about his love for Merrill. Who had fervently tried to talk it out of his head, to make him see what he considered sense. That same Fenris now showed himself so big-hearted as to offer them his house. And not just the house but, even more importantly, his kind wishes as well. He felt deeply moved.

‘His mansion?’ Merrill said softly. ‘After he has worked so hard to restore it he just gives it away? To us?’

Sebastian smiled at her. He felt his heart flutter. ‘And with a big enough garden for you to plant all the flowers you like.’

‘Leave the Chantry? What about, “Leave the Chantry”?’ With narrowed eyes Aveline stared at the unlikely pair and then comprehension dawned. ‘No!’ she exclaimed, vainly trying to suppress the meanwhile too familiar and irritating giggle that fought its way up. ‘You two, an item? No way!’ Helplessly she burst out laughing and had to lean on Donnic to keep her balance. ‘And I thought this day couldn’t become any more idiotic!’

Varric felt strangely relieved that he had not been the only one not to notice. ‘And what has the Mother Hen to say about these developments?’ he asked nastily. To his dread Sebastian grinned at him. He had not thought the man capable of grinning. He had thought Choir Boy could only smile teeth-achingly benignly.

‘She has to accept the fact, doesn’t she,’ Sebastian answered with flair, ‘because I’m not going to change my mind. I’ll stay with Merrill, not matter what happens.’ To underline his words he pulled a happy looking Merrill close to him.

Varric snapped his mouth shut. This was more than he could cope with on such short notice. He had to digest it first and he feared that could take quite a while.

Anders sauntered over to the buffet table. To his own amazement he didn’t feel any urge to react on the inane situation. He supposed his brain was already too flooded with everything else that had happened this day to fuss about this new incredible fact.

‘Look at this,’ he said brightly, ‘Antivan Summer Passion! Great!’ And he poured himself a glass of wine.

-

‘Do you think they like what we had in store for them?’ asked Marian.

‘I take it this is a rhetorical question,’ said Fenris. Languidly he stretched his long legs under the small wobbly table and contentedly looked around. With much satisfaction he took in the view, the sounds of a busy northern port, and the scents of spices and sweet flowers that surrounded them.

They were sitting on a small terrace in front of a little bar at the seaside boulevard in Dairsmuid, the capital of Rivain. Now and again he took a little sip of his excellent wine while Marian busied herself with emptying her glass with the cocktail consisting of rum, pineapple juice and some secret ingredient that was supposed to give the drink that special Rivaini twist. By the look of her face the combination was a great success.

‘Of course it was!’ she laughed. ‘And if not I’ll strangle the ungrateful lot when we get home.’ She let out a deep satisfied sigh. ‘This,’ she declared, ‘is the best idea you ever had.’

They had rented a small cosy cottage just outside the city, on walking distance of the picturesque centre with its colourful houses, its lovely bars and restaurants, its lively harbour and marketplaces, its charming winding streets and merry inhabitants. Even the shops and warehouses looked pretty.

Fenris leant back in his chair and savoured the warm sunshine on his face. He had missed it dearly. ‘Thank you,’ he said, flashing her a lazy smile. ‘I thought so myself.’

He wondered how long they could prolong this holiday before they had to go back to Kirkwall. Before the proverbial dust clouds they had stirred up had settled down again. He hoped it would take a long, very long time.

As to answer his musings Marian suddenly said, ‘Fenris, love, I’ve been thinking.’

He shot to attention, warily studying her face. This could mean anything and with everything that had come to pass he wasn’t at all certain he would be pleased with what she was about to propose. ‘Yes..?’ he said while he carefully put down his glass.

‘What if we buy the cottage we’re staying in, as a holiday home? I love it here and I’d like to have some, how to call it, retreat. For when we get fed up with all the problems Kirkwall can throw at us.’

Fenris chuckled in surprise. ‘I couldn’t agree more.’ He took her hand and kissed her fingers. ‘Apparently I’m not the only one with brilliant ideas.’

Marian caressed his cheek. ‘We could make it our private love nest,’ she said with a sultry voice. ‘And it must stay our little secret; Maker forbid the others find out. Never mind how much I care about them, I’m not willing to share our cherished palace with them.’

Fenris wondered how much more he could love her. He kissed her softly before he called for the waiter to bring them another drink.

‘What happens in Rivain, stays in Rivain,’ he murmured.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I have no idea what Rivain, or better: Dairsmuid look like, but I pictured a Provençal town somewhere at the Côte d’Azur in France. You can’t go wrong with that.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	25. Chapter 25

Part 28: many people ask for another round in this chapter and Anders finally gets a part of the fun.

-

‘Do it again,’ murmured Isabela. Her eyes were closed and her face was clicked shut in the Take Me to the Moon mode. Now and again her body was shuddering in the aftermath of – well, several other heavenly aftermaths.

‘Are you sure? I’ve been made to understand it feels wonderful, but – ‘

‘Do it again.’

Impatiently Isabela shook her hips, pulled up her legs a little and pushed her head back into the thick feather pillow, her face screwed up with blissful anticipation.

A short hesitant pause was followed by, ‘Perhaps I should warn you there can be a serious risk at self-combustion if you keep going on at this rate. And I’m afraid I’ll feel responsible if that happens. Do you want to spoil the fun?’

Isabela opened one eye that looked incredulous, irritated and amused all in one. ‘You’re the healer. You’ll fix it. Now do it again.’

‘Aaand you had to remind me of the healer part. Now I do feel responsible. Definitely. Thanks for that.’

‘You’re welcome, lover. What’s keeping you?!’

‘That’s quite obvious, woman. My responsibility is.’

Anders was lying with his head on the pirate’s shoulder, with a perfect view on her perfect breasts. They were both stark naked. His hand was between her thighs, lazily fondling her folds that were soaked, due to the numerous orgasms he had given her. On the inside of his fingers he could still feel the faint flicker of electricity that had pushed her to many heights. And he could feel the tingle in his abdomen that still tried to push on his manhood to take action. He’d love to but was too tired by now.

They had started with making love in the conventional way of two people enjoying each other’s bodies. Although “conventional” was perhaps not the right word for the near desperate way they had wanted to forget their trepidations for a while. Once out of the sight of prying eyes they had jumped each other with groping hands and hungry mouths and biting teeth like a pair of horny teenagers or two cats in heat. But then, of course, Isabela had remembered the marvellous electricity trick and he, evenly of course, had wanted to be a show-off.  And now it was getting out of hand.

‘For just a short while I could imagine I was still that young cheerful rebellious mage who loved forbidden trysts in secret corners,’ Anders complained, ‘and then you had to go and spoil the treasured memory.’

Isabela turned her head to look at him, annoyance plain on her face. ‘And for just a short while _I_ could image you were that young cheerful rebellious mage that gave me a memory to savour at the Pearl,’ she shot snappily back, but her expression softened when she met the little twinkle in his eyes. She gave in with only a small lopsided smile. ‘You were joking about the self-combustion, admit it.’

Anders grinned boyishly. ‘Who can tell? But to be on the safe side, what about another swig of wine before we resume our exquisite and arousing exercises? Besides that, you’re wearing me out. Just give me some time to catch my breath and gather some strength. Casting magic is as tiresome as making love. And far less satisfying, let me tell you.’ After a short contemplation he added, without any sweet-talk, for she wouldn’t appreciate that anyhow, ‘because, mind you, between now and what’s left of the night I might want to fuck you again. Without electricity.’

As he had expected, Isabela just giggled and accepted the bottle Anders had managed to sneak upstairs.

‘ _Now_ you remind me of that delicious mage in Denerim!’ She heaved her upper body and leaned upon her elbow to take a sip of the bottle Anders offered her. She smacked her lips approvingly. ‘What wine was it again? Antivan Summer Passion? Hmm ... I can tell you some things about Antivans that will make you feel humble about your secret trysts.’ She passed him the bottle, gave him a fat wink along the way, and lay down again.

‘I don’t doubt it,’ mumbled Anders drowsily. He mused about the wink. His hand, after putting the bottle back on the floor, travelled to her inviting breasts, grandiosely filling his view, and he started to play with one of her nipples. It earned him an encouraging groan. He smiled inwardly. Despite her reputation Isabela wasn’t easy to please and she certainly didn’t jump into bed with just anyone. In some ways she held higher standards than the noble women in Hightown. Her calling him lover was no less than a grand honorific. He let out a soft sigh. The wink had been a thumbs up and he knew it. It made him fly.

He had to confess he hadn’t felt this good since a long time. After all the stress that the sudden love-affair between Hawke and, and that – well, Fenris ( _heavy inward blow of breath, grinding of teeth, rolling of eyes_ ) had brought about, he finally had found a tiny piece of quiet. He was the first to admit he was astonished when Isabela, after the shockwaves of the documents Bodahn had produced had evened out, had taken his hand. The very hand that not moments earlier merrily had poured a glass of the notorious Antivan Summer Passion in the midst of all the startling confusion. Because he had refused to be upset any longer, no matter what would happen next.

Halfway the stairs he had let out a warning signal at Justice. Maker forbid that that sordid spirit would interfere and push him back into that dreadful abyss full of hate, revenge and jealousy. But Justice, although he had fervently tried to recuperate, wasn’t still his old severe self since the tea-incident. His spluttered protests were incoherent and didn’t make any impression whatsoever. _Keep it that way_ , had Anders thought savagely. And it had been enough leverage to let Justice flee again into some indistinct crevice. Sometimes some obscure herbs could do a lot of good.

Isabela stirred against his body, as if catching his secret thoughts. She certainly at once dragged him out of what could become dark thoughts and he was grateful for it. He turned his attention to her; no matter what she’d come up with, he would accept it.

‘Do you think they will be angry about us using their absurdly luxurious four-poster?’

Anders rolled over and covered her lustrous body. Her question had stirred his manhood back to life, no matter how much mana he had used already. For some reason making love with Isabela in Hawke’s and Fenris’s bed turned him tremendously on. _Eat your heart out, sucker!_

‘If so, would you care?’ To his satisfaction he felt the energy return. His prancing cock tickled her alluring wet entrance.

Isabela gripped his shoulders and gave him a love-bite that left him shuddering.

‘On the contrary; I think this is the perfect payback,’ the pirate queen panted, and it aroused him even more. ‘You fucking me in their treasured bed, after they played their trick ... priceless. I hope they’ll burn the mattress.’

‘I can do that for them,’ Ander offered.

With a swift move Isabela turned their bodies so she sat on top of him. ‘Brilliant idea. But let’s make good use of it first,’ she murmured in her most sultry voice.

-

Pensively Aveline took a sip of her wine, after she had witnessed how Isabela had dragged Anders up the stairs. ‘I never thought I’d say this, but good for her.’

‘Good for the both of them,’ agreed Donnic, grinning. ‘I reckon they’ll lose a lot of tension between now and, uhm, whatever time they’ll take.’

‘The whole night,’ said Aveline determinedly. ‘And if they dare to come down sooner, I’ll personally chase them back up those stairs again. They stay up there and do their thing, or rather Isabela’s thing, as long as it takes for Anders to unwind. I don’t put up with that insufferable, pathetic attitude of the powerless prosecuted heartbroken mage anymore.’

Donnic‘s face fell. ‘So you’re planning to spend the night here, playing guard and guardian in one go?’ he informed carefully, nor very pleased with the prospect. Their relationship was still too young to loudly vent his displeasure with the idea of babysitting a frustrated mage and a woman his girlfriend normally only referred to as “whore” or “pirate wench”. Needless to say he had had completely different plans for the night to come.

Aveline looked up, frowning, and then looked around to find out they were the only ones left in the parlour.

Varric had rushed over to the Hanged man, clutching the deed of the place close to his chest hair, presumably out of fear someone would steal his precious away from him. Merrill and Sebastian had also taken their leave, undoubtedly to inspect the royal shelter they, from now on, so unexpectedly could call their own. Merrill and Sebastian... Aveline wrinkled her brow but immediately after dismissed fretting over the mystery and especially dismissed the disturbing pictures it stirred up in her head. She’d deal with it later. Much later. After all, it wasn’t a threat to the city of Kirkwall. She hoped.

And, as already elaborately mentioned before, Isabela and Anders had taken their business to the next and upper level.

Bodahn, by the way, had ages ago fled to the kitchen; after the delivery of the official papers, to be precise. Aveline assumed the steward didn’t feel the slightest urge to get tangled up in the commotion his employers had caused.

She smiled sweetly at her lover. ‘I suggest we snatch a couple of bottles with the good stuff and a bag of canapés and have ourselves a nice cosy night at my place.’

Donnic exhaled relieved. That had been exactly his idea of a good time. Especially with that, though small but surprisingly comfortable bed in the background of his mind.

-

‘Do it again!’ cheeped Merrill excitedly.

‘I already did it twice,’ chuckled Sebastian. He could never get enough of seeing her happy and hearing her cheerful voice. He wondered why it had taken him so long to notice. And it was so _easy_ to make her happy. She got delighted with the smallest things.

‘Three is the charm,’ Merrill pointed out, her eyes shining.

‘Can’t fight that solid logic,’ Sebastian agreed.

And so he took her hand to lead her outside. He lifted her in his arms and for the third time carried her over the threshold of their new domain. And before she could demand a fourth time he carried her further inside and to the first floor to inspect the double bed that was waiting for them. If it were up to him, it would be a long and very thorough inspection.

-

‘Say it again,’ gurgled Varric. His voice almost cracked. He was sitting behind a large whisky at the bar in the Hanged Man. _His_ Hanged Man. _His_ large whisky. For which he didn’t have to pay. Because the tab-days were over. Because from now on this was _his_ tavern. _His_. He fought down the desire to scream out loud in pure ecstasy. He would marry Isabela any day again if it brought him this reward. No, that wasn’t entirely true but he would deal with that later. After the pure exhilaration had settled down in his system. Not now.

_His._

Well, theirs, of course, but that didn’t matter at this moment. Nothing did but the staggering knowledge the place was his.

His!

His eyes were alarmingly unfocused and Corff feared that any moment now the dwarf at the other side of the counter would burst into tears. Not that Varric was drunk, far from that. Up till now he hadn’t even touched the ridiculous amount of booze he had ordered. But he was in such a strange mood that Corff was afraid he could expect anything at any moment now. Even a salty deluge.

‘Alright,’ he sighed, giving in, ‘as you will. Boss.’

Varric beamed. ‘Say it again.’

-

‘Oh yes, do that again,’ croaked Isabela, more or less at the same time.

Anders nuzzled her bellybutton while his hands sensually glided over her sweaty body.

‘Really? I thought you liked to be on top.’

‘Shut up, stud, and take me again.’

‘Even without the electricity?’ asked Anders teasingly.

Isabela just grumbled something incomprehensible about the pres and contras of electricity when his tongue travelled further south, and produced something similar to a heated mate call when he arrived at her nub.

Only the next morning, when she woke up in an alien bed next to a comatose Anders, feeling totally worn out and totally satisfied, she realised that for the first time in her life she had completely lost control and had allowed someone else to take the lead. With a deep contented sigh she moved closer to the mage.

‘Well Anders,’ she mumbled, ‘all those stolen trysts in secret corners did pay out in the end. At least you had the possibility to have a lot of practice before you had to pass the final exam. And, I must say, you passed with flying colours. You’re even better than Zevran, when you put your back into it. You even let _you_ be on top. Zevran never managed that. I think I’ll keep you for a while.’

Anders groaned in his sleep and turned, taking the covers with him. ‘Hmffbrll,’ he declared.

Somewhere in his subconscious he felt Isabela’s arms encircling his torso and her warm body pressing into his. He smiled happily.    

-

Many leagues north from Kirkwall Hawke was already up and about. She had sneaked out of bed without waking Fenris. That is, she very much wished to think she did. She was quite certain, or better: knew damn well, he played along and pretended to be asleep, just to indulge her because he knew she liked to surprise him with breakfast in bed. So, on her turn, she played along as well. It had become their little game during their long, lovely holiday.

She had put the kettle on to make coffee and in the meantime had wandered outside onto the porch with the perfect view on the calm murmuring sea that, for one reason or another, in this place was incredibly blue. So different from the grey, depressing waters between Ferelden and the Free Marches. She leant on the parapet and grinned from ear to ear. The day before they had bought the little cottage from a rather bewildered owner. Former owner by now. And she could now truly speak of  “Our Little Retreat in Rivain”.

‘Our so much treasured retreat,’ she murmured and, if possible, her smile became even wider.

She was so wrapped up in cheery thoughts that she all forgot about the coffee she had wanted to make.

Until Fenris pushed a cup of the alluring smelling steaming liquid under her nose.

‘I believe I once warned you for the dangers of boiling kettles,’ he chastised her mildly, smiling at the memory.

‘Ah yes,’ Marian mused dreamily, ‘and as I remember well, you made hot love to me on the kitchen table at the same time.’

The elf laughed out loud and Marian thought she could never get enough of that deep dark sugar sound.

Fenris bowed his head and softly kissed the skin of her neck.

‘Hmm, do that again,’ Hawke encouraged him.

‘I believe there’s a quite sturdy table in the kitchen. Our kitchen,’ he whispered seductively in her ear. ‘How about we test its durability?’

Without spilling another word Marian grabbed his hand and hauled him inside their new property.

Oh yes, she simply loved morning sex.

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahum. Considering the amount of sex described in this chapter you should think it’s spring, instead of autumn. That is, of course, for the people living on the Northern hemisphere. For you Down Under it’s just the right time, I suppose.
> 
> As you can understand, this story is finally reaching its end. The next chapter will be the last of a string I didn’t even mean to write in the first place. Fantasy can be a strange phenomenon!
> 
> And as always, thank you so much for paying attention to my scribbles!


	26. Chapter 26

Part 29: in which a girl makes clear what she desires, another girl almost chokes and an elf doesn’t know what to make of the situation. In short: old same.

-

With a deep contented grunt Hawke sank languorously into the cushions on the comfortable sofa and crossed her ankles. Appreciatively she looked around, at the bright painted walls, at the elegant, delicately looking wooden tables and chairs, the wind lights hanging from the low rafters, the candles-in-bottles on the tabletops; at the palm trees, the oleanders, the winding vine branches and colourful garlands. All fake of course, but such good replicas that they almost seemed real. On the far wall even some artistic paintwork was done; nothing too prominent or explicit, mind you. Just enough to give you the illusion you could be sitting on a sunny boulevard somewhere in Rivain. Hawke took a sip, or rather a gulp, from her cocktail. It even tasted like Rivain. And by now she knew what that tasted like.

‘I like what you’ve done with the place,’ she told Isabela. ‘Yet I’m also a bit surprised.’

‘About what?’ Isabela sank into the pillows next to her friend.

Hawke vaguely waved a hand around. ‘About the topic of the furnishing. To be honest, when I heard of your new enterprise, I had expected a more, how to put it, boudoir-ish theme. With lots of, er, tableaux au naturel, so to speak.’

Isabela laughed wholeheartedly. ‘I’ve contemplated it, of course. But I thought the sour comments of Captain Men Hands would spoil the fun. As would constantly explaining the scenes to our innocent Kitten.’ She forestalled Hawke’s predictable reaction with an impatient gesture. ‘Yes yes, I know. Our princeling made sure the two words will never go together again.’ She took a sip from her own drink. ‘The other day our sweet little elf shocked me with telling about the Antivan Milk Sandwich. With just a tiny bit of giggling. She didn’t even blush! Would you believe that!’ She rested the heels of her booted feet on the low table in front of the sofa and shook her head. ‘A pity, really, to never being able to tease her once more with sexual innuendos.’

‘Oh I don’t know,’ Hawke said carelessly, ‘she always showed a nifty interest in the subject. I suppose she’s a keen student. It disconcerts me more to think of Sebastian as some, eh -’

‘Experienced stud?’ Isabela hinted. She put up her most sultry voice and murmured in Hawke’s ear, ‘A tiger in bed? Those exquisite muscles finally put into good use? Those lips finally doing what they ought to do? Finally remembering what “manhood” means? All sweaty and panting and moaning and ... yummy?’ That last word came out as a hungry, sensual growl.

‘Shut up!’ Hawke exclaimed, reddening. She was no prude but Isabela had the tendency to push things just over the limit. She made your imagination go dangerously wild. She threw a cushion at the pirate queen.

Isabela swatted the missile out of the way easily. ‘Don’t tell me you never fantasized about him!’

‘I certainly did not,’ Hawke stated savagely. ‘Who in their right mind would fantasize about a pious, preaching, self-righteous, boring Chantry Brother who advertises abstinence to boot?!’

‘Well, I for one -’

‘And speaking of disconcerting,’ Hawke interrupted her, ‘I don’t know which image is more unsettling: Sebastian heatedly pawing Merrill or Aveline heatedly pawing Donnic. All sweaty and panting and moaning ... and such.’

Isabel tilted her head pensively. ‘It has potential,’ she said.

Hawke let out a deep sigh. ‘Everything remotely sexual has potential in the pirate’s world,’ she complained to her glass that to her regret was already empty.

‘I cannot deny that,’ Isabela giggled, ‘can’t be helped, though, I’m afraid. It’s in the blood, or something like that.’ She patted her friend on the upper arm. ‘Another drink? Tonight’s on the house.’ She looked over her shoulder while she sauntered to the counter. ‘Who’d have thought the cellar under the Hanged Man would turn out to be such an useful room! Let Varric have his man-cave upstairs, I’m more than happy with this space.’ She mixed another cocktail and poured herself a generous amount of rum.

‘You still haven’t answered my question. About the interior designs, pretty as they are.’

‘If we want erotica, we can always go to the Rose,’ Isabela said determinedly while she settled in the cushions again and handed Hawke her drink. ‘But this is my establishment, my Call of the Siren. And I want my place to remind me of Rivain. Because it’s a great country with lots of sun and wonderful drinks and beautiful vistas on the blue, blue sea.’

‘You’re homesick.’ Marian suddenly comprehended.

‘I’m always a little homesick, sweetness, even when I’m out at sea, doing what I’m best at.’

‘Having sex with your crew?’ Hawke suggested. She smiled crookedly. ‘Just an educated guess.’

Isabela threw her a dark scowl. ‘That too. But then I remember my _annoying_ friends live here, in crazy, dreary Kirkwall, and I feel better. And now I’ve made a small piece of Dairsmuid come alive in this city. My private woman-cave if you will, and you are all invited to enjoy it. And to top it all: I can make quite a profit out of it. An outstanding nightclub with outstanding drinks that doesn't require an acquired taste to knock them back without retching.’

Carefully Hawke placed her glass on the table. ‘So it all worked out fine..?’ she said tentatively. ‘You know, I was convinced, Fenris and I were convinced, that you and Varric would have been divorced when we got back from our holiday. But instead we find you both flourishing.’

‘Divorced?!’ Isabela cried out, almost sounding hurt.

‘I know, I know,’ Hawke said, fluttering her hands, ‘the wretched Complete Peoples Laws et cetera. But I’d thought by now Varric would have found a niche. Besides, I’d imagine adultery would do the trick.’

‘Why would he?’ the pirate queen said, genuinely surprised. ‘As you observed so well, we’re flourishing! Have you seen him strutting around up there?’ She pointed at the ceiling. ‘He’s as happy as a fox in a hen house! As am I! Alright, as a vixen in a hen house. Why change that by getting a divorce?’

Fervently Hawke tried to keep up. ‘Are you trying to tell me, I mean, are you, eh, together, in bed?’ she ended lamely.

Isabela burst out laughing. ‘Of course not! You know his idiotic fetish for his crossbow. Faithful till death. Sometimes you’d think Bianca’s a real woman. You should have married _those_ two!’

Hawke picked up her glass, feeling strangely relieved, and took a sip.

‘No,’ Isabela went on, ‘I’ve taken a lover. And the beauty of this marriage is I don’t even have to keep it a secret.’ Wickedly she observed the other woman while she casually announced, ‘I’d have never imagined Anders would be such a satisfying animal between the sheets.’

Hawke choked on her sip and started spraying rum and pineapple-juice all over the place. ‘What??!’ she managed somewhere between two bouts of coughing.

Helpfully Isabela repeatedly rapped her back with the flat of her hand, harder than strictly necessary. ‘You don’t know what you’ve been missing by rejecting his advances,’ she continued mercilessly. ‘I really hope Fenris’s performance in bed is worth it, because - ‘

Fast as a viper Hawke sat straight. She pointed an accusing finger at her friend. ‘That’s quite enough, thank you! Just, just, shut up!’ she shouted agitated. She wondered why she reacted so strongly. She didn’t begrudge Isabela nor denied Anders his pleasure. Jealousy was an emotion that played no part whatsoever. Perhaps it was the shock of hearing something so incomprehensible as Isabela taking the mage to her bed and, weirder even, something so extravagant as Anders actually having sex.

‘Are you sure? You don’t want to hear all the juicy details?’

Hawke already opened her mouth to yell she indeed didn’t, thank you very much, but then inwardly shook herself. _Stop acting like some naif, distraught waif, you twit!_  So she changed her mind and instead of yelling she began to laugh. If it was really true what the pirate queen claimed - and why would she lie about it - then she couldn’t wait to hear all about it. ‘You bet I want to!’ She wiped away the tears that rolled down her cheeks. ‘Let me guess: the infamous electricity-trick.’

‘And that was just the start of it,’ Isabela said with a conspiratorially wink. ‘Keep in mind,’ she said when she noticed Hawke looking slightly concerned, ‘ this is not a love affair. It’s simply sex. Damn good sex, admittedly, but just sex.’

‘I hope Anders thinks the same,’ Hawke mumbled. And then she became aware of the other woman’s hardly detectable change of colour. She shot to attention. ‘No!’ Again fit of laughter bubbled up in her throat. ‘No! Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with him!’

‘I have not!’ Isabela shrilled indignantly but she couldn’t hide her flush. She groaned. ‘I let him on top,’ she confessed, grumbling.

‘Wow.’ Hawke leaned back in the cushions. She was in awe. ‘He was _that_ good, was he?’

‘Yep, he was,’ Isabela mooned dreamily. ‘He still is.’ Then she shot to attention as well. ‘You can’t tell anyone, you hear me?! No one must know this!’

‘Not even Anders himself?’

‘Especially not Anders! What must he think! He’ll get it into his head he can play boss and then everything will be ruined!’ One could build a brick house in the heavy silence Hawke let fall by not giving a reply whatsoever. It made Isabela squirm. ‘Listen, sweetness. It’s not about love and definitely not about falling in love. But he makes me happy.’ She smiled at Marian.’Me thinks that’s enough.’

Hawke returned the smile. ‘Me thinks the same.’ She waved at her spoiled drink. ‘Empty. And not in the good way. I take it there’s more where this came from?’

Isabela beamed at her. ‘ As much as you like.’  

‘And for you information,’ Hawke said because she got the feeling she had to rectify something, ‘Fenris may not be a tiger or an animal in bed, but he can be an angel and a demon at the same time. I think that’s way better.’

Isabela’s ringing laughter trailed after her on her trip to the bar. ‘If only you’d learn how to share!’ she murmured and shook her head regretfully .

-

From the corner of his eye Fenris observed his male companions. He didn’t quite know what to make of it. Anders, in his memory nothing but a whining self-proclaimed martyr who pined after his woman, was smirking as a cat that had swallowed the canary. And Donnic, who he formerly knew as a stern, serious guardsman, looked contented as said cat after emptying the bowl with cream as desert. And all the while Varric kept on wearing such a broad grin that he was in permanent danger of losing the top of his head. It was unnerving.

‘I fold,’ Fenris said, throwing down his carts.

‘What?’ Varric cried. ‘Already? You can’t have been dealt such a bad hand!’

‘No. But you all behaving so uncharacteristically makes me lose my concentration,’ Fenris scoffed.

‘Hark the elf!’ Varric jeered mordantly. ‘And behold the shameless glow that nowadays has found an everlasting home in his features! Do you think you’ve the exclusive rights to happiness?’

Fenris delicately raised his dark eyebrows. ‘Of course not. But I keep wondering what the next nice surprise will be you have in store for us and when it will stab us in the back or smack us right in the face.’

Secretly he had been fearing all sorts of cunning traps awaiting them on their return from their holiday. He had been sneaking through the estate, searching the premises from top to bottom. Marian had laughed about it, but at the same time had thoroughly gone through the mail and even had gone as far as inspecting the Chantry Board. Up until now they had found nothing untoward, but that blissful situation could change any minute.

‘My, are we suspicious today!’ Anders grinned merrily.

‘And with good reasons too,’ Fenris bit irritably. The situating was getting on his nerves and he began to suspect his friends, or antagonist in Anders’s case, were possessed by very devious demons. He knew it was nonsense and that riled him even more. Demons were easy to struck down. This stupid behaviour was not.

‘Look who’s talking,’ Varric said. ‘Who were the ones that got me and the Rivaini married in the first place!’

Fenris opened his mouth to utter a protest, saw Varric’s shining face, became aware of the other two quite happy faces and sagged. He stood.

Before he could utter a word Varric said, ‘The missus has made a rather nice place downstairs. You should go and check it.’

Fenris stared at him. ‘The missus,’ he echoed, flatly.

‘Just go and take a look,’ Varric urged him on.

Fenris turned and fled down the stairs. If only to get away from the too sugary expressions that followed him. He couldn’t wait till he he could flee the unsavoury scene with Marian’s steady hand in his.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
